


Kinktober 2019 : Kamari333 Edition

by Kamari333



Series: Kamari333 Kinktober Archive [3]
Category: Undertail - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Against a Wall, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Asphyxiation, Begging, Biting, Blood and Gore, Body Worship, Bodyswap, Bondage, Bonds (Telepathic of Empathic), Breast Fucking, Bukkake, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Collars, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Crossdressing, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Dacryphilia, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Distant/Distracted sex, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Emetophilia, Empathic Bond, Empathy, Exhibitionism, Feet kink, Fisting, Food Kink, Foreplay, Formalwear, Forniphilia, Frottage, Fucking Machines, Gags, Gun Kink, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Heavy Petting, Humiliation, Impact Play, Incest, Inflation, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, Knife Play, Lactation, Latex, Leather Kink, Licking, Lingerie, M/M, Macro/Micro, Massage, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Kink, Mirror Sex, Multi, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, Public Display of Affection, Public Scene, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Robot Sex, Role Reversal, Sacrum Lacing, Scars, Scent Kink, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Shibari, Shotgunning, Shower Sex, Sixty-nine, Size Difference, Sleep Sex, Smut, Somnophilia, Sounding, Spitroasting, Sthenolagnia, Strength Kink, Suit Kink, Suspension, Temperature Play, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles, Threesome, Tie Kink, Uniform Kink, Voyeurism, Weight Gain, ass worship, distention, feederism, pillow humping, smiles/laughter, straight jacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-08 19:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 73,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333
Summary: Kamari333's Kinktober shorts, following the prompts set alongHERE.Some days are hits. Some are misses. You be the judge if you choose to read.Individual tags in the summaries and notes.Functional Table of Contents included!





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Special Thanks to my lovely betas: [Tluthal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tluthal), [GetMcDunkedOn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetMcDunkedOn), [Biryu13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biryu13), and [Valmunify](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmunify), who I depended on a lot this year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Table of Contents
> 
> A good place to check kinks, pairings, and warnings before you read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thank you my lovely betas~
> 
> the following garbage is much better thanks to their efforts

_ **HI FOLKS!** _

Beyond this point you will find ~70k words of pure, unadulterated, self indulgent, Undertail-themed _SIN_, all written and published during Kinktober2019. Please note that there may be plenty of typos, although I will/have since gone back and fixed some of them since I'm garbage and read my own stuff, and this year I have been indulging in the use of my lovely betas!

For quick and easy perusal I am putting a Table of Contents here.

* * *

**Day 0: Table of Contents** <=== YOU ARE HERE

[Day 1: His World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49543466)  
**Prompts:** Deep-Throating | Inflation | Face-Sitting | Masks  
**Kinks:** Deep-Throating | Inflation | Edging | Voyeurism | Dom/Sub | Aftercare  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Dancetale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~2k 

[Day 2: Before and After Care](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49579124)  
**Prompts:** Ass Worship | Begging | Medical play | Watersports  
**Kinks:** Ass Worship | Begging | Medical play | Edging | Anal Fingering  
**Pairing:** Starberry (Underswap!Sans / Outertale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced chronic illness; body dysphoria  
**Length in Words:** ~1.8k 

[Day 3: Where He Wants to Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49616357)  
**Prompts:** Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play  
**Kinks:** Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play | Bondage | Cock Worship | Anal | Fellatio  
**Pairing:** Curtain Call (Reapertale!Sans / After!Dance!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced chronic illness; touch starvation  
**Length in Words:** ~2.2k 

[Day 4: Consent.exe Stress_Relief(2) ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49652648)  
**Prompts:** Spanking | Mirror Sex | Spit-roasting | Dacryphilia (Crying)  
**Kinks:** Mirror Sex | Spit-roasting | Dacryphilia (Crying) | Masturbation | Sex Toys | Voyeurism | Robot Sex | P in V  
**Pairing:** lust!Papyton (Underlust!Papyrus / Underlust!Mettaton)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced past rape/non-con; generous mixing and matching of genetalia  
**Length in Words:** ~3.3k 

[Day 5: A Little Taste of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49684097)  
**Prompts:** Feet | Sadism/Masochism | Feederism | Shotgunning  
**Kinks:** Feet | Feederism | Shotgunning (Smoke Sharing) | Edging | Foreplay | Massage  
**Pairing:** Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Horrortale!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; drug use  
**Length in Words:** ~2.5k 

[Day 6: Intoxicated](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49722263)  
**Prompts:** Daddy | Corset | Cock Worship | Biting  
**Kinks:** Cock Worship | Biting | Suit Kink | Tie Pulling | PDA  
**Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Swapfell!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; alcohol use; jealousy  
**Length in Words:** ~2.2k 

[Day 7: Brotherly Love 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49764071)  
**Prompts:** Praise-kink | Body Swap | Aphrodisiacs | Incest  
**Kinks:** Praise-kink | Body Swap | Aphrodisiacs | Incest | Humiliation | Tentacles  
**Pairing:** Dreammare (Dream / Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; parallel to drug use; rape/non-con; incest  
**Length in Words:** ~2.3k 

[Day 8: Consequences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49802753)  
**Prompts:** Blood/Gore | Prostitution/Sex Work | Fisting | Hate-fucking/Angry Sex  
**Kinks:** Blood/Gore | Fisting | Hate-fucking/Angry Sex | Shotgunning (Fisting Technique) | D/s | Sounding  
**Pairing:** Horrortale!Sans / Underswap!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; referenced/implied past blood/gore; PTSD  
**Length in Words:** ~1.8k 

[Day 9: Gift for Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49836257)  
**Prompts:** Titfucking | Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles) | Bondage | Lingerie  
**Kinks:** Titfucking | Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles) | Bondage | Lingerie | Cross-Dressing  
**Pairing:** Underfell!Papyrus / Outertale!Papyrus  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; body dysphoria; subdrop; possessiveness; manipulation  
**Length in Words:** ~3.3k 

[Day 10: A Little Surprise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49869176)  
**Prompts:** Hair-pulling | Waxplay | Micro/Macro | Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)  
**Kinks:** Micro/Macro | Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic) | D/s | Sacrum Lacing | Licking  
**Pairing:** Rust (Underfell!Sans/ Underlust!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~1.8k 

[Day 11: Public Affection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49901081)  
**Prompts:** Object Insertion | Sounding | Cross-dressing | Tribadism/Scissoring  
**Kinks:** Sounding | Cross-dressing | Public Play | Orgasm Denial | D/s  
**Pairing:** CherryBerry (Underfell!Sans/ Underswap!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~3.3k 

[Day 12: Apple of Chaos](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49932044)  
**Prompts:** Licking | Pet Play | Rimming/Analingus | Costume  
**Kinks:** Licking | Rimming/Analingus | Cunnilingus | Public Play  
**Pairing:** HoneyCider (Underswap!Papyrus / Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; depression; mention of drug use; implied/referenced death; implied/referenced noncon; dubcon; secret relationship  
**Length in Words:** ~5k 

[Day 13: Something is Wrong](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49967219)  
**Prompts:** Weight Gain | Distant/Distracted Sex | Gags | Creampie  
**Kinks:** Weight Gain | Distant/Distracted Sex | Gags | Creampie | Tentacles | Edging  
**Pairing:** Underlust!Sans / Nightmare  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; rape/noncon; torture  
**Length in Words:** ~1k 

[Day 14: Brotherly Love 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50007911)  
**Prompts:** Asphyxiation | Cunnilingus | Distention | Tentacles  
**Kinks:** Asphyxiation | Cunnilingus | Distention | Tentacles | Aphrodisiacs | Incest | Humiliation | Orgasm Denial | Overstimulation | Somnophilia  
**Pairing:** Dreammare (Dream / Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; parallel to drug use; rape/non-con; incest  
**Length in Words:** ~1.9k 

[Day 15: How You Feel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50047274)  
**Prompts:** Forniphilia (Human Furniture) | Overstimulation | Thigh-Fucking/Intercrural sex | Uniforms  
**Kinks:** Forniphilia (Human Furniture) | Overstimulation | Thigh-Fucking/Intercrural sex | Uniforms | Handjobs  
**Pairing:** Drink (Dream / Ink)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; dubcon  
**Length in Words:** ~2k 

[Day 16: Quality Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50078051)  
**Prompts:** Nipple Play | Frottage | Body Worship | Sixty-nine  
**Kinks:** Frottage | Body Worship | Sixty-nine | Licking | Fellatio | Scars  
**Pairing:** Krumping (Underfell!Sans / Dancetale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~2.2k 

[Day 17: Misjudged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50111519)  
**Prompts:** Masturbation | Seduction | Collaring | Orgasm Denial  
**Kinks:** Masturbation | Seduction | Collaring | Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Swapfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced jealousy; implied/referenced cuckolding  
**Length in Words:** ~1.1k 

[Day 18: Error in Judgement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50142812)  
**Prompts:** Fucking Machine | Latex | Role Reversal | Xenophilia  
**Kinks:** Fucking Machine | Latex | Role Reversal | Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Underswap!Sans / Error  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; bad characterization  
**Length in Words:** ~1k 

[Day 19: Meanwhile, Also at the Party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50175104)  
**Prompts:** Public | Formal Wear | Straitjacket | Cock-Warming  
**Kinks:** Public | Formal Wear | Straitjacket | Cock-Warming | Orgasm Denial | Voyeurism  
**Pairing:** Curtain Call (Reapertale!Sans / After!Dance!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; too short;  
**Length in Words:** ~600 

[Day 20: Faulty Memory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50209802)  
**Prompts:** Urophagia | Hot-Dogging | Emeto | Dirty talk  
**Kinks:** Emeto | Dirty talk | Bondage | Kissing | Foreplay | Biting  
**Pairing:** Error / Ink  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~1.7k 

[Day 21: Hanging Hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50253008)  
**Prompts:** Bukakke | Food play | Suspension | Branding  
**Kinks:** Bukakke | Food play | Suspension | Fellatio | Cunnilingus  
**Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Horrortale!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~1.6k 

[Day 22: What is Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50286338)  
**Prompts:** Impact Play | Cuckolding | Hand-jobs | Threesome (or more)  
**Kinks:** Impact Play | Cuckolding | Hand-jobs | Threesome (or more)  
**Pairing:** Underswap!Papyrus / Underfell!Papyrus / Outertale!Papyrus / Swapfell!Papyrus  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; safeword use  
**Length in Words:** ~1.8k 

[Day 23: Master, At Your Service](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50319146)  
**Prompts:** Scars | Master/Slave | Shibari | Size Difference  
**Kinks:** Scars | Master/Slave | Shibari | Size Difference | Cunnilingus | Begging | Dirty Talk  
**Pairing:** Underlust!Sans / Underfell!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~1.3k 

[Day 24: Sweet Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50354150)  
**Prompts:** Pegging | Leather | Lapdances | Shower/Bath  
**Kinks:** Leather | Shower/Bath | Tentacles | Sacrum Lacing  
**Pairing:** Dream / Underswap!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; cheesy plot points  
**Length in Words:** ~3.2k 

[Day 25: Spring Fever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50383184)  
**Prompts:** Tickling | Scat | Boot Worship | Olfactophilia (Scent)  
**Kinks:** Olfactophilia (Scent) | Heat | Pillow Humping | Kissing  
**Pairing:** HoneyCider (Nightmare/ Underswap!Papyrus)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; attempt (and failure) at rape/noncon/dubcon; mention of plans for major character death  
**Length in Words:** ~3.4k 

[Day 26: Soft Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50414735)  
**Prompts:** Lactation | Roleplay | Smiles/Laughter | Toys  
**Kinks:** Lactation | Smiles/Laughter | Kissing  
**Pairing:** FirstStar (Outertale!Sans / Undertale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~900 

[Day 27: First Contact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50448473)  
**Prompts:** Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | Degradation | Gun Play | Against a wall  
**Kinks:** Exhibitionism | Voyeurism | Gun Play | Against a wall  
**Pairing:** Outertale!Sans / Mafiafell!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; mild dubcon; minor character death  
**Length in Words:** ~2.6k 

[Day 28: Seen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50489672)  
**Prompts:** Omorashi | Stripping/Striptease | Vore | Humiliation  
**Kinks:** Omorashi | Humiliation | Exhibitionism | Tentacles  
**Pairing:** Underlust!Sans / Nightmare  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; dubcon; noncon onlookers  
**Length in Words:** ~900 

[Day 29: Afterparty Aftercare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50525612)  
**Prompts:** Glory hole | Double (Or more) Penetration | Sleepy Sex | Massage  
**Kinks:** Sleepy Sex | Massage | Aftercare | Frottage | D/s  
**Pairing:** Curtain Call (Reapertale!Sans / After!Dance!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~1k 

[Day 30: Territory Crash](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50558948)  
**Prompts:** Gagging | Stockings/Tights/Pantyhose | Breast Worship | Swallowing  
**Kinks:** Gagging | Swallowing | Fellatio | Cuckolding | Splitroasting | Biting | Exhibitionism | Voyeurism  
**Pairing:** SpicyKustard (Undertale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underfell!Papyrus) & BBQKetchup (Undertale!Sans / Swapfell!Papyrus)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; incest; dubcon;  
**Length in Words:** ~9.2k 

[Day 31: Sleep it Off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50593136)  
**Prompts:** any  
**Kinks:** Somnophilia | Kissing | Scars | Toys | Cunnilingus | Anal | Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Dancetale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~1.6k 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, if you liked any of the coming chapters, leave a comment! even if its just a "*" or "i was here" or something dumb XD


	2. Day 1: His World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Deep-Throating | Inflation | Face-Sitting | Masks  
**Kinks:** Deep-Throating | Inflation | Edging | Voyeurism | Dom/Sub | Aftercare  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Dancetale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity
> 
> Dance runs a scene where he gets to live his power fantasy and love on his datemates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting off strong with 2k of burlesque self indulgence garbage

Dance stood back a moment to admire his handiwork, the result of hours of careful datemate husbandry: Lust was a panting, glistening mess of amethyst light, dripping in sweat that shimmered in pretty purple to match his blush. Lust watched as a single pearling bead of that liquid light dripped off of his jaw and fell to land on Red's ribs, adding another speckle of purple to the spiderwebbing of red and green and gold that decorated his other lover.

Spiderwebbing which culminated in the summoned midrif that was now swollen with Lust's magic, the purple of it mingling and visible inside the translucent ecto.

Lust whimpered, seizing up as another orgasm ripped from him. His hips, which had been pressed firmly to Red's for the last hour or so, unmoving so his dick was kept securely inside Red, were again shaking, responding to the small probe that had been mercilessly stimulating him from the inside. "d-dance-!! please~~!!"

Red gasped, fisting the sheets under him. He'd been told not to move. His dick, left untouched the entire session, stood erect and weeping, almost as swollen as his middle. Frustrated tears were beginning to bead at the corners of his sockets, but still he lay there, obedient and pliant, one hand occasionally grasping up towards Lust or Dance in search of some comfort (whether to give or receive, Dance doubted even Red knew), as it was now.

The room was so entrenched in the echoes of _love_, _want_, and the messy, blurred line between _satisfaction_ and _frustration_, it felt to Dance as if he were swimming in it.

"m-master~~"

Dance purred, slipping once again up against Lust's back, one hand curling around him to rub soothingly up and down Lust's bare sternum, while the other settled on Red's leg, trailing up and down the battered, calloused surface of his tibia and femur. "color?" he asked, watching with a somewhat ferel satisfaction as Lust found Red's searching hand and tangled their fingers together in a meaningful, quivering grip.

"b-" lust started, before correcting to, "o-orange."

"o'r'nge," Red mumbled, low and strained, but without missing a beat.

Dance squinted. "done, baby?" He murmured, pressing a kiss to Lust's neck, just over the collar which buzzed with that familiar crispness that Dance had come to adore as much as Lust's warmth. "thats good. don't push yourself more if you're done..." he reached down and switched off the vibe, pulling it out and setting it to one side.

Lust stayed upright on his knees for a few more moments, before carefully pulling out of Red (dragging a low sound from the other's nonexistent throat what shot down Dance's spine like a lightning bolt) and promptly sagging back into Dance's arms.

Dance purred, cradling Lust for a few precious moments, drinking in his warmth and the radiating _love_, _gratitude_, and various other soft feelings that were Dance's reward for a job well done. The smile on Lust's face begged for a kiss, and Dance was more than willing to take that bullet, happily drinking in the pleased little mewls and moans he elicited. Lust responded with tired, sloppy technique, which Dance was even more pleased about. Wearing Lust out was an olympian achievement well worth every effort.

There was, however, still another datemate that he needed to tend to. Dance nipped gently at Lust's jaw, before carefully adjusting his grip to awkwardly, gracelessly shimmy them both to Red's side. Lust took the hint, an agreeable noise slipping out of him as he snuggled up under Red's arm, leaning up for a kiss before settling in to rest.

Red gripped onto Lust, clawing weakly at his back. He was panting heavier, his single eyelight a blur in his socket.

Dance circled back to settled between Red's still-splayed knees, sliding his hands along the underside of Red's quivering femurs as he admired him; ivory cracked and bruised, welling up with molten jewels and gold. His swollen stomach pulsed faintly with the magic Lust's numerous climaxes had left there, adding to the dazzling colors. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex and the perception of their magics, watermelon and vineyards mixing to a fresh, delightfully heady wine that Dance was addicted to.

Before him, Red's dick stood, stiff and aching and hard.

"can't believe you're this turned on from being filled," Dance hummed, leaning in closer. He brought two fingers to Red's twitching, barely abused hole, teasing the soft summoned flesh with gentle prodding before plugging it with a cap he had had sitting on standby. The choked off gasp Red produced settled like a led weight in Dance's pelvis. "been real good for me. keep it up a little longer, k?"

"y-yeah..." was Red's guttural reply.

Dance pressed a few affectionate kisses to Red's shaft, licking the pre that had slid down it. The way Red shook was beyond satisfying.

Lust smiled knowingly, uncurling one of his arms to stretch down, resting his hand over Red's middle. He started rubbing, slow, soothing circles, demulcent intent working wonders. Dance watched, his own hand beginning to lazily pump at Red's length, as their larger bedmate slowly calmed, his tension bleeding away. The surest sign of Red's _contentment_ (besides the blatant echo of it, ghosting against Dance like mist) was the stuttered rumbles of his purring, sparking to life and setting the air quivering.

Dance interrupted the tranquility, knowing full well what he was doing and delighting in it, by beginning to ease Red down his throat. Dance delighted in the raw scrape of a curse that squeezed between Red's clenched teeth. More than anything, however, Dance enjoyed the taste of his datemate's essence: savoring it, the sweetness, the salt, the sharp bite of fresh, crisp cold. This was _his_ treat, to savor. Dinner and a show, watching Red squirm under him and shimmer, obedient.

_Fuck_ did Dance feel _powerful_ at times like this!

It took a few extra minutes of swallowing and gagging before Dance managed to properly deep-throat Red, endlessly aware of the girth now obstructing what ought to have been a windpipe had he been more material than magic. It was a comforting pressure, making it easy for Dance's mind to clear and soul to calm. It made him all the more aware of the collar around his neck, the soft, treated velvet pressing a bit more firmly around him, sparking with that same safe, reassuring power. He swallowed again, redirecting the warm magic that was dripping down his summoned throat to settle properly, drinking it in. Red tensed again under him, his legs trembling on either side of Dance's head. Dance tried a few testing head bobs, causing the little bell that was forever around his neck to peel. Dance was immensely pleased by the _desperate_ keen dragged from Red, welcoming the way Red's legs settled around his shoulders, curling as though to bring him closer, to shield him, to make him safe.

Lust seemed to be getting his second wind. He was still stroking Red's torso, pressing down on it occasionally to increase the pressure. Red just laid there and took it, took whatever either of them gave him, clawing at the sheets and Lust's back and struggling to stay quiet in that way that drove Dance closer to baser urges he never knew he had. Lust shimmied up a little, enough that he could steal sleepy little smooches from Red, and murmur softly against his skull things Dance couldn't quite make out (but whatever they were, they seemed to have quite the effect on Red, coaxing even more magic to dribble down Dance's welcoming throat).

Dance was content to sit there, but Red's _need_ was growing stronger, and he expected that even Red would reach his limit. Dance began to bob his head a bit harder, using his tongue to trace intricate, sloppy patterns, pulling back enough to gently bite down before sucking him in again. He increased the frequency of his swallowing, watching Red's face, not wanting to miss a moment of it. As he worked, the bell around his neck rang stronger, clearer, more musically, harmonizing with the beautiful noises Red made in turn.

Dance was in control. He had the world in the palm of his hand (or, more accurately, in his mouth), and _it felt good_.

And he got to decide to make the world a better place.

Dance sucked just a little bit harder, moaning low and long and loud. It was enough to push Red over the edge, and Dance struggled to swallow down every drop as Red seized up, quivering and hot and trusting. Dance felt some of that potent magic escape from the corners of his mouth, dripping thicker than saliva down his jaw. The scent, the taste, the _love_ and _trust_ and _devotion_ in the air, culminated into a perfect moment of visceral, halcyon satisfaction.

Dance pulled his mouth off of Red, licking the residue off his teeth. He again got to admire the sight before him, two thoroughly satisfied datemates, ready to wind down from his taxing attentions. "color?" Dance asked, wincing at the raw, scratching attribute to his voice (a side affect of abusing his throat's magic).

"orange," Lust assured.

"or'nge," Red panted.

Dance smirked, nuzzling Red's inner femur, paying attention to a scar that shimmered, begging for attention. He eased Red's legs off him, crawling to kneel opposite Lust. "help me get him to the tub?"

Lust smirked, soft and lovely and wonderful, a pulse of _affection_ and healthy _mischief_ reminding Dance why he adored him to begin with. He gripped Red's arm and pulled it more securely over his shoulder. "sweetheart, i'm gonna lift you up ok? nice and easy~"

Red hummed an acknowledgment, his skull lolling to one side. Dance couldn't stop the grin growing on his face. Red in subspace was the picture of adorable, pliant and agreeable and trusting and _theirs_. Dance cupped Red's chin to steal a kiss, then joined Lust in helping to move him off the bed and over to the bathroom.

Once they had him standing in the tub, Dance removed the plug from Red's hole, setting it aside. Red shivered at the change, at the sudden capacity to relieve the pressure that had been his burden for so long. Dance gently eased Red into a sitting position, spooning him from behind. Dance stroked that still swollen middle, somewhat disappointed that he didn't think to add his own colors to the mix. _Maybe next time._ It was only then that Dance felt comfortable enough shedding his hoodie and undershirt, tossing them haphazardly across the room, so he could feel Red's body against his own more directly.

Lust turned the water on, angling it to spray against the back wall behind Dance, so the water would flow under them back to the drain. He then snuggled up in Red's lap, letting out a _happy_ trill when Red hugged him close, still in a daze. "you did great, sweetheart, how do you feel?"

"...full," Red mumbled, resting his chin on Lust's skull, pulling him closer. His face was still vividly flushed, the greens and golds still prominent in his coloration. "...ok."

"just~ ok?" Lust asked, eyelights starting to quiver with his _nervousness_.

"...good." Red nuzzled.

Dance, still idly rubbing at the ecto Red couldn't quite dissipate yet, pressed a kiss to Red's heavily scarred and cracked scapula. He enjoyed the way Red sucked in a sharp breath, spine going ramrod straight for a moment, pressing back into Dance as though for more of the same. His skull tilted backward, which gave Lust the opportunity to nuzzle his cervical vertebrae.

"thats good," Lust hummed, purring away. "me too~"

The water was starting to build up in the tub, refreshingly warm and soothing. Dance felt Red begin to melt against him, purring louder. The pressure under Dance's hands began to lessen, the clearness of the water discoloring slowly. Dance kept up the gentle petting, grasping with his other hand to clasp one of Lust's.

A relaxing soak to wind down; a rinse in the shower to remove the last of the grime; the calming ritual of pulling on soft sleepwear; the homey camaraderie of mutual agreement to toss the topmost bed layer and snuggle up under a blanket; the soft noises of gentle breathing; the scent of soap and chalk, sweat and safety and fruit; Dance was home, with Lust and Red, exactly where he belonged.

All was right with his world.


	3. Day 2: Before and After Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Ass Worship | Begging | Medical play | Watersports  
**Kinks:** Ass Worship | Begging | Medical play | Edging | Anal Fingering  
**Pairing:** Starberry (Underswap!Sans / Outertale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced chronic illness; body dysphoria
> 
> Impulse lets Blue play with him and likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a relationship i've been chomping at the bit to get into and i'm so glad it works as well as i like~!! this also is a preview of something that i absolutely plan to make happen~ heheheheheh
> 
> 1.8k of a demo ship~

Impulse tightened the grip he had on Blue's neck, anxious as he felt Blue's grip shift from the two-armed maiden hold he had started with to a one-handed balancing hold. Blue did need to free an arm to unlock and open his (_their? Impulse was living there now too right?_) front door. Once the door was open, Blue pocketed his keys into the pocket of his hiphugger jeans, settling his hand on Impulse's back in a soothing gesture.

"ARE YOU OKAY?" Blue asked, petting up and down Impulse's spine as he walked into the livingroom and kicked the door shut. "DOES IT STILL HURT?"

Impulse shook his head, before resting it on Blue's shoulder. He'd tripped and fallen back on his coccyx, which, given his brittle composition, was easily enough to cause fractures. Blue had scooped him up to take him home immediately, concern oozing from every pore. It was endearing, and sweet, if a little extra.

Endearing, sweet, and extra; that was Blue.

Blue sat down on the couch, still cuddling Impulse like a fragile china doll. Impulse didn't mind; he found that he was quite partial to the contact, finding it a stark contrast to everything he ever hated. Behind held was great. Wasn't he lucky his datemate liked cuddling? Impulse settled comfortably in Blue's lap...

Only to flinch and wince when he settled too much weight on his coccyx.

"DOESN'T HURT, HUH?" Blue asked wryly. He moved the couch pillow closer. "LAY FACE DOWN. LETS TAKE A LOOK."

Impulse tried to give Blue a pleading look. Blue still wasn't fluent in hands (he'd been trying to learn, and knew a few simple signs, but wasn't quite there for advanced concepts yet) so pantomiming and sticky notes and texting were usually best when they were alone.

"I WILL BE GENTLE." Blue assured him, pressing his forehead to Impulse's. Impulse shivered, closing his sockets to just enjoy the moment. Blue being gentle was exactly what Impulse was worried about, and yet also reassuring.

Blue's hand came up, stroking at Impulse's jaw and neck, a soothing, rhythmic petting that only succeeded in making Impulse sleepy. He knew that was probably Blue's goal (benevolent manipulator that he was). Impulse nuzzled into that hand, before acquiescing and laying down. He took a moment to get comfortable, shifting until he had just the right amount of support, head on the pillow and pelvis in Blue's lap.

Blue carefully slid down Impulse's shorts, leaving them to tangle around his ankles (_did he lose his slippers at some point? he hoped they came off in the house_). "OH." The soft noise was full of implications that made Impulse's soul pang guiltily. Gentle, now unglove hands settled on Impulse's rear, tingling with demulcent magic, coaxing whatever crack was there to knit back together.

The throbbing ache that had been tormenting Impulse for the last fifteen minutes gradually eased. He could feel his whole body go lax, melting into the cushion and Blue's lap.

Blue hummed, running his thumb over the new callous, tracing around Impulse's sacrum foramen with feather-light touches. "THATS BETTER..."

Impulse had to agree, nodding in case Blue was watching him. The gentle attention was starting to make him squirm, igniting the sluggish magic nodes in his body.

"HAVE YOU BEEN PRACTICING THAT THING THE PHYSICAL THERAPIST SUGGESTED?" Blue asked, still running his hands over Impulse's pelvis. Impulse remembered how he had explained just how much he appreciated the little divots and curves, the texture of his light scarring against the unblemished, smooth bone. The attention was making it hard to concentrate. Impulse nodded again, although it was a little white lie: he had only bothered to practice a few times, since it was strenuous and he wanted to save his energy for other, more important things.

"GREAT!! LET ME SEE?" It came out like any other innocent request would, but Impulse was not fooled. The way those fingers circled like a vulture around his tender foramen, curling around his sacrum to rub languidly at the anterior as well as the posterior surface, told a very different story.

That was Impulse's paranoia talking. Blue genuinely adored him, he knew that. It wasn't the unhealthy possessive kind of adoration, it was the earnest, well meaning kind. Just because Blue threw the same level of passion and intensity into it didn't mean it was bad. And Blue had proven time and again that he was genuinely looking out for Impulse's best interest. He cared. _It felt good to be cared about._

And Impulse knew it would feel pretty good to let Blue care for him.

So, taking a deep breath, Impulse began to focus, gathering his meager reserves of magic and condensing them. It was easier than before, which probably meant that the physical therapy was actually working. Slowly, he coaxed a midriff, and thighs, and everything in between, to take shape around his bones in translucent ecto.

Blue made a gasping noise. "THIS IS GREAT!! I KNEW THIS WAS WORKING!! YOU'VE BEEN BLUSHING MORE-" _wait, has he??_ "-AND YOUR EYELIGHTS ARE BRIGHTER AND- WOWWIE..." Blue's hands settled on Impulse's bare ecto, tracing the silhouette of his spine from his ribs down to his chubby buttocks. "YOUR MAGIC IS SO PRETTY... LIKE THOSE PICTURES OF GALEXIES..."

Impulse shuddered at the comparison. He didn't want to look like space. He hated space.

"...I'M SORRY. I KNOW YOU DON'T LIKE IT. BUT ITS SPARKLY AND BEAUTIFUL. AND IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER..." Blue gave his ass another gentle squeeze. "IT ALSO LOOKS LIKE WATERCOLORS. AND THOSE SQUEEZY BALLS WITH THE RAINBOW GEL AND GLITTER?"

Impulse relaxed again. He much preferred that. He could identify with a stress ball, especially with the nice way Blue's hands had started kneading at his ass. _That felt pretty good_. He snuggled the pillow, letting his mind clear. It was easy to just lay there and doze, feeling cared for.

Blue's hands rubbed, pulled, and stroked at Impulse's ecto, toying with the tender, sensitive flesh. "YOU'RE VERY PRETTY... AND I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE IMPROVING!! THE SOONER YOU CAN KEEP THIS UP INDEFINITELY, THE SOONER I CAN WORRY LESS. YOU'RE SO SOFT... IT WILL BE PERFECT CUSHION TO PROTECT YOU..."

As Blue spread Impulse's cheeks, and began prodding at the puckered hole that came part and par with the simulated anatomy, Impulse was reminded that it left him vulnerable in a different way.

"YOU CAN MAKE THIS MUCH DETAIL! THATS A GREAT SIGN!! LETS SEE JUST HOW HEALTHY YOU REALLY ARE RIGHT NOW~" Impulse had a love/hate relationship with that particular tone of voice: on the one hand, it usually meant that he was going to be on the receiving end of some intimate attention, which was embarrassing; on the other hand, it also meant he was going to be on the receiving end of _Blue's_ intimate attention, which was nice.

Blue's hands stilled. "IS THIS OKAY?"

Impulse shifted to look over his shoulder. Blue was staring at him intently, waiting. Impulse knew that if he shook his head, Blue would pull his shorts back up and there wouldn't be another word about it. Blue tended to get overexcited sometimes, but he honestly cared about what Impulse had to say (despite his inability to say anything). Blue's eyelights were dilated, face flushed and smile a calm, thoughtful foil to his usual exuberant one.

Impulse nodded.

Blue immediately indulged, plunging a finger into Impulse up to the knuckle. Impulse stiffened, surprised at the intrusion despite expecting it. He turned back around to bury his face in the pillow, hiding from Blue's melodic chuckles and hungry eyelights. He couldn't hide from Blues hands, however (not that he wanted to). One hand continued to lovingly squeeze and rub, working together with the digit pumping achingly slow in and out of him.

Impulse felt pressure build between his legs, squirming as he got hard. Blue shifted under him, spreading his legs to let Impulse's dick settle between them, where it was hugged between soft thighs Blue must have made while Impulse wasn't looking.

"YOU'RE RESPONDING GREAT, MY LOVE," Blue praised, which only further fueled the heat inside Impulse. "ANATOMICALLY AVERAGE, SENSITIVE, HEALTHY. NOW LETS SEE IF YOU HAVE..." Blue reached deeper with his long, slender phalanx, prodding along the inner walls until he found a bundle of nodes to put pressure on. Impulse's hazy meditation, although already suffused with warmth and distraction, was abruptly derailed; he felt as though his lower half was being melted, overtaken with an electric sensation that had him twisting, thrusting, squirming in contrastive, paradoxical goals to both escape and seek more of the sensation.

Blue pressed down firmer on Impulse's hips, forcing them to go mostly still. "RELAX, MY LOVE. ...DID THAT HURT?" The last part was spoken in a tone of concern. Impulse shook his head as vigorously as he dared. He was panting, and felt sticky with sweat he hadn't known he could even produce anymore: exhausted, and energized, and lethargic, and dazed, and comfortable; Impuse was a lot of things, but 'hurt' was not one of them.

"GOOD." Blue gave another affectionate little squeeze, with both his hand on Impulse's ass and his legs around Impulse's dick. "YOU'RE IMPROVING SO MUCH. I'M SO PROUD AND HAPPY FOR YOU..!" Blue's voice sounded a bit rough. His finger started to prod at those bundled nerves softly, sweetly. It drove the breath out of Impulse, and lulled him to uselessness.

"YOU'RE SO PRETTY LIKE THIS..." Blue murmured. "I'M SO LUCKY TO HAVE THIS PRIVELAGE... I LOVE YOU SO MUCH."

It was moments like this that Impulse wished, more than anything, that he could still speak. He wanted to return the sentiment.

Blue continued to finger him, becoming gradually faster. He added a second finger. Impulse felt the pressure building, he was going to- going to-!!

Blue pulled his fingers away, cutting whatever was about to happen off with an almost painful abruptness. Impulse wreathed, screaming internally at the loss. He turned around, again trying to express just how much _he didn't want it to stop_ with his eyelights.

Blue licked his fingers clean (_always the stickler for cleanliness_). He made a low note in his ribcage, then smiled down at Impulse. "BEST NOT TO WEAR YOU OUT TOO MUCH. YOU STILL DON'T HAVE A STRONG RESERVE OF MAGIC RIGHT? I DON'T WANT YOU TO GET HURT. DO YOU WANT TO CUDDLE AND WATCH TV?"

Anyone who said Blue wasn't cruel did not know him as intimately as Impulse did. Impulse let go of his hold on his ecto, sighing out an empty, airy wheeze of disgruntlement. Then he crawled around and curled up in Blue's lap, quietly demanding apology cuddles. Blue, seemingly pleased with the development (possibly having planned the whole thing in his head, taking Impulse's preferences into account), curled around Impulse protectively as they lay down together on the couch, nuzzling him and murmuring a soft 'I LOVE YOU' against his skull.

Impulse turned his back to the TV, instead hiding in Blue's shoulder, nasal aperture pressed against his robins-egg-blue ascot. The pleasant, comforting scent helped calm him down, making it easy to drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and blue feels bad for teasing his boyfriend but also he couldnt help himself because he's cute and blue is finding he likes games like this... as much as he likes the other stuff. which he absolutely wants to do with impulse too, but only when its safe because his boi is fragile and he will fite


	4. Day 3: Where He Wants to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play  
**Kinks:** Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play | Bondage | Cock Worship | Anal | Fellatio  
**Pairing:** Curtain Call (Reapertale!Sans / After!Dance!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced chronic illness; touch starvation
> 
> Dance gets to indulge his power kink and Reaper gets some _god damn_ peace and quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to test a little rarepair. And. I like it.  
Imagine, Dance becoming a Geno-type (pffft lol i think i'm funny) and Reaper having this snarky, grumpy bastard
> 
> its written more like reaper!lust tho isnt it? godly tango. but i like curtain call as a ship name
> 
> have this 2.2k demo

Dance reached up, tugging lightly at the blindfold. "can ya see anything?"

Reaper considered the question. The blindfold certainly made it difficult to see in the traditional sense, but his godly senses were still fully operational, giving his third eye a perfect view of Dance, his shred of a soul shimmering like a tiny, precious jewel in the darkness of infinity. It called to him, the loudest of all the voices that called to him, although the voices were growing louder by the moment. "only in the metaphorical sense, my treasure. my sixth sense makes sensory deprivation a bit of a challenge."

Reaper took in the sullen silence, followed by some rustling. His mate never liked failure of any kind, so Reaper could picture his sullen, unsatisfied expression clearly. "i know ya were looking forward to it, lovely, but-"

Then there was silence: it wasn't the same silence that had been hanging between them a moment before, the kind of silence where Reaper pushed the call of his profession to the back of his mind. No. It was _true silence_. The voices, the calls, were _gone_, as if they had never been. Even Reaper's view of Dance's soul fragment, which had been crystal clear a moment ago, had vanished. Reaper was stunned, speechless, and a little frightened. He tugged instinctively at the chains that Dance had secured him with, keeping him to the bed. _What had happened, where were the lost souls, what-_

"how about now?" Dance asked.

"what happened, h-how did you-?!" His godly calling was suddenly _gone_ how was this _possible_?!

"did it work?" Dance perked up. "remember all those parts i asked you to bring me? i made an electromagnetic wave generator. well, an electro-magio-magnetic wave generator. i hypothesized that maybe your god thingies might be using a sort of echolocation using waves that penetrated the membrane of the multiverse and if that was true then all i would have to do to turn it off was use destructive interference, but i wasn't sure i could get the right amplitude... i'm glad i went with the wider range generator, your frequency is really hard to reach by conventional means..."

Reaper swallowed hard, shivering. _That was... genius. And terrifying. To think a mortal could so easily nullify the power of a god, even if it was only his senses._ "thats... impressive. i didn’t think you could... do that..."

"is it okay?" Dance asked.

Reaper considered it. In the void, his death touch didn't work. With Dance's invention (and ok, it was kind of sexy that his baby could build a god-defying machine, that was hot) he couldn't hear his calling. He couldn't remember ever feeling this alone.

But Dance was here.

"yeah, it’s you, so it's okay..."

Dance let out a low rumble, pleased in that way that sent a shiver down Reaper's spine. Reaper felt his hand rest first on his chest, then trail up to his clavicle, then to his cheek. "perfect. remember your safeword?"

"pineapple." Reaper answered immediately.

"thats right." The bed shifted, and then Reaper was tasting Dance's kiss, drowning in it.

Reaper wasn't alone. He wasn't cursed to his loneliness, to never knowing the touch of a loved one, to be forever the unstoppable and inevitable force that no one welcomed with open arms. Right here, right in that moment, he was wanted, and cared for, and it was everything he had ever dreamed it would be.

Dance pulled back. "headphones gonna go on now. if you need a break, say your safeword."

"ready when you are, baby," Reaper purred at him.

Then the headphones were on, and all Reaper could hear was a soft static, calming white noise to offset the silence. He grinned, his immortal soul melting just a little at the thoughtfulness. The whole scene was dripping in thoughtfulness, from the custom, padded cuffs for extra comfort, to the soft sheets on the soft bed, to the inobtrusive static when Dance knew Reaper had never known true silence. It was true that Reaper had been the one to gather it all, since Dance couldn't leave the void, but Dance had been the one to ask for it all.

Reaper would need to send a gift basket to Muffet for blessing him with such fortune.

For a few moments, which dragged on for what seemed like hours, Reaper was left to stew, naked and vulnerable. He struggled at first, amusing himself with the soft friction of his bindings against his carpals and tarsals, the slide of his bones against the sheets. It was strange to be tethered down so. He was used to free floating, lounging on the aether.

The constant contact was a reminder that there was more to come. The anticipation, the waiting and the knowing that his mate was right there with him, had his magic prickling, swelling eagerly. It felt heavier, harder to move than usual (likely due to that interference Dance still had going) but it certainly wasn't missing.

Then it began.

* * *

Dance stood over Reaper, clutching the first event of the evening (day? night? time was meaningless in the void) in shaking hands. Reaper was stretched out before him, the god’s cloak of shadows folded neatly and set aside to leave him ethereal and bare, ivory against black sheets. Dance watched with bated breath as the ghostly pallor slowly suffused with a powder blue, reminding him of the sky on a cloudless day. Others might have attributed it to the color of lips on the dead, but Dance thought it more beautiful than something so mundane and morbid.

Dance swallowed thickly, tasting the blood that swelled in his mouth at regular intervals. He was constantly bleeding nowadays, his chest a dull, perpetual ache. Reaper always told him he liked the splash of red against his blue hoodie, that the crimson that now suffused his magic suited him.

Dance decided that if red was going to be his color now, he wanted to see it on Reaper.

Lighting the end of the crimson candle, Dance held it at an angle over Reaper's chest. He held his breath, waiting, until finally the first few drops fell to land on Reaper's pearly physicality. Reaper seized up, gasping with a sharp cry that settled in Dance's chest and dropped down to his pelvis. Dance held the candle steady, shifting it a bit to one side, watching the liquid ooze between those sensitive ribs and drip into Reaper's ribcage, settling on his inner surfaces and spine and making Reaper jerk and twist as though he were dancing. The vulnerable, tantalizing whimpers and gasps each drop punched out of him was music to Dance's ears.

Reaper was so beautiful like this, trusting and willing, all for Dance, all for him to use and abuse.

Why Dance tormented himself by using melted wax, when what he wanted was his hands on Reaper instead, he wasn't sure. But _fuck_, it was a sight.

Dance set the candle aside, and then pulled over the cooler he had had sitting nearby. Opening it, he pulled a knife out of the ice, sharpened and cold. The metal was a bit brittle, so it would likely break if he used too much pressure, but Dance wouldn't need to do that.

"dance~!! it's hot!!" Reaper all but sobbed. Dance turned back to him, admiring the way the god was still so beautiful, even brought low and trembling. Bringing a _literal god_ (and not just any god, but _his god_, Death personified) down to a drooling, crying mess did wonders to boost Dance's confidence, to make him feel powerful again. A pleased, feral groan quivered in the back of Dance's throat to see that Reaper's magic had settled heavy in his pelvis, and was one small push away from snapping into place. He didn't know for sure what it would be today: a dripping pussy or a stiff, needy cock (and honestly he didn't care; both aspects of his god were wonderful in their own ways and he would never turn down the opportunity to worship either manifestation), but finding out would be half the fun.

"dance-!!" came another desperate plea, slurred and uncertain.

Dance had to struggle with the urge to jump his mate right then and there, licking his teeth at the tempting idea of kissing him stupid and using his hands to drag his arousal from him only to be used until there was nothing left but a boneless puddle of endorphins. Tempting, _tempting_, but Dance had plans...

Dance circled the bed, eyes never leaving the sight before him, drinking in every twitch, every rattle, every hushed plea. Still no safeword, but he could see that the waiting was beginning to ferment the uncertainty in Reaper. He crept forward, careful not to shift the bed, and lightly pressed the flat of the icy blade against Reaper's lumbar vertebrae.

Reaper flinched from it, cursing. "c-cold..?!"

Dance couldn't help but snicker at Reaper's surprise. It was cute. The god had been to every conceivable place, seen everything there was to see, and yet at the same time he was so sheltered, missing out on so many textile experiences. Dance purred at the idea that he would be taking the sweetest pleasure in walking Reaper through so many firsts.

That Reaper would let him.

Dance added another splash of wax, and this time when the blade came down, he used the edge, tracing patterns in the liquid delicately, so as only to scrape the thinnest surface of the bone underneath. The lovely, melodic whimpers he got in return were everything he could have wanted. Dance then moved the blade to an untouched section of rib and carefully, lovingly, dragged the blade across it, putting only the slightest pressure.

Reaper screamed, thrashing in an attempt to escape despite the blade only being on him a few seconds.

Dance set the blade aside, and took his pants off. He was already hard, himself, magic heavy and excited. He straddled Reaper, cupping the god's tear-streaked face and holding it for a possessive kiss. _His._ Dance's soul fluttered at the thrill of it, at having this all to himself, at being the only one Reaper let touch him like this, love him like this. _Out of all the people in all the multiverse, Reaper had chosen to give this to Dance, to give Dance this power over him._ It made him feel blessed, puissant, humbled all at once. He kissed him again, leaving a trail of them down his jaw, his cervical column, to his clavicle where he bit down, groaning softly.

"fuck, baby..!" Reaper cursed, voice hoarse and raw.

Dance could feel the soft rise of ecto under him. He looked down, smirking at seeing Reaper's dick standing ready at attention for him. He shimmied down, licking the tip, drawing another curse (presumably; this one was in a language Dance didn't know, but given the tone he was certain it was something vulgar and validating). Dance licked up the length of Reaper's shaft, swirling his tongue and tasting him. Reaper responded _deliciously_, profanity and praise both with and without words, obscene vocalizations that had Dance moaning in reciprocation. Before he knew it, he was deep-throating the god, desperately sucking him off as though for his life.

Dance only remembered to pull back just in time, coughing at the abuse and drainage down his throat (both his own blood and the much more delectable pre that Reaper had offered him). Reaper's powder blue magic was stained in harsh bloody red, the tones almost mixing to the purple of a bruise.

Dance shifted to line up his own cock, the same bloody hue, changed like the rest of him, with Reapers twitching, unprepared hole. He rubbed the weeping tip against it, a warning, before using his fingers to prep Reaper, spreading him open. By this point, Reaper had devolved to babbling, pleas and praise and expletives mixing and slurring together, languages new and archaic woven in a tapestry of moans made music to Dance's metaphorical ears.

Dance wasted no time hilting himself inside his willing, desperate mate, sighing in relief at the connection before doubling over and thrusting in earnest. He clung to the god's plush, soft hips, digging his fingers into the false flesh to leave marks he didn't care would be gone by morning, and didn't stop his hips until they were both covered in proof of his mate's climax, which synched with his own nearly perfectly.

Dance pulled out, panting and sweaty and sated, only to crawl over Reaper and curl up against his side, one arm over the god's wax-crusted ribcage, purring happily. It took him a few moments and a soft murmur from Reaper to remember to remove the blindfold and headphones.

The cuffs, however, could stay a little longer. Dance worked hard on that scene and by god (the god of death to be precise) he was going to have afterglow cuddles if it killed him.

...Except Reaper's arms and one leg curled around Dance, encircling him in a comforting, encompassing embrace. The god turned to lay on his side, tucking Dance under his chin after pressing his teeth to Dance's skull. Dance grumbled, snuggling closer as best he could to leech off of his warmth, sighing when the familiar black cloak seemingly magically alighted over the both of them like a ratty blanket. He wasn't going to question it, since Reaper seemed content to stay put.

"i love you too," Reaper mumbled, empty, bottomless sockets drifting shut.

Dance tried to return the sentiment, but he couldn't know of his success before the calm of sleep drew him in. He was just too comfortable, being right where he wanted to be.


	5. Day 4: Consent.exe Stress_Relief(2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Spanking | Mirror Sex | Spit-roasting | Dacryphilia (Crying)  
**Kinks:** Mirror Sex | Spit-roasting | Dacryphilia (Crying) | Masturbation | Sex Toys | Voyeurism | Robot Sex | P in V  
**Pairing:** lust!Papyton (Underlust!Papyrus / Underlust!Mettaton)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced past rape/non-con; generous mixing and matching of genetalia
> 
> Pink is very in love with his robot boyfriend, and Mettaton realizes he's okay  
Or. Pink has sex with his idol backstage for the first time and screams a lot  
Or. Mettaton runs a new stress relief program

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.3k of me touching on a sensitive subject i probably should keep my dumb nose out of, with lots of love and consent

Pink pulled the little chest out from under the bed, glancing at the door one more time before opening it. Inside were what, at first glance, looked like overly complicated dildos, with metal and electronic pieces at the bottoms. Pink rang his fingers lovingly over one, shivering in anticipation of something he never expected to have.

He had built these himself, robotic penises of various shapes and sizes, for his lovely boyfriend Tonton, but if he were honest with himself, it was more for himself than Tonton. Pink had no expectation of Tonton wanting or even using them, but when he was alone, and the heat became too much, it was nice to fantasize.

And today was just such a day.

Pink carefully pulled out two of the larger ones, fitting the bottoms with a cap that was infused with a little magic of his own (he didn't think it would be right to ask to use TonTon's without telling him what it would be for, and he was too embarrassed and concerned about TonTon's comfort to do that), bringing them to life. There were multiple sections to best simulate organic motion, the designs sleek and coated with silicon, soft in some places and harder in others. The inside glowed a pretty pink color, responding to the magic, and Pink had no problem pretending it was the bubblegum pastel of his lover, and not his darker mauve.

Pink kicked off his pants, hiking his sweater up as he squirmed. His ecto was already in place, his dick stiff and slit dripping. He didn't bother with any prep work, instead immediately easing one of the dildos up inside him, clenching his teeth to keep his noises to a minimum. He was so wet, just thinking about what it could have been, there was hardly any resistance at all.

Once he was perfectly filled (Pink could only imagine TonTon having the most perfectly pleasurable tools, so that was what he built), Pink eased the second one into his mouth, the best gag he could ever ask for, great to make sure that if TonTon did happen to come home to read in the livingroom, he wouldn't disturb him.

Pink gripped the end of the dildo with one hand, his own dick with the other, and began to pump with both. He started slow, at first, gentle, thoughtful, cautious, just how he imagined it would be. He moaned softly around one in his mouth, letting his sockets drift shut so he could picture his fantasy more clearly: _TonTon's face, his smile, the way his hair bobbed gently when he moved._ Pink's hand continued to move at a languid pace, taking in the feel of what he imagined his mate to be.

Eventually, Pink's pace quickened, stroking himself a bit rougher as he tried to thrust into himself harder. A whine pealed around the gag in his mouth. He shifted, trying to get the dildo to grind against his inner walls at the perfect angle, but no matter how he twisted or squirmed, he just couldn't seem to manage it. As he expected, he lost control of his voice, the only thing keeping him even marginally in check being the gag he was sucking on. His hands worked faster, pushing himself roughly to completion, yet it was an exercise in futility; he just wasn't getting what he needed out of it.

Pink didn't waste any time, starting his hands moving again almost immediately. He was covered in his own release, the warm wetness clinging to his bones and ecto both. His hands were especially soiled, and although he wasn't going to stop to look, he knew from experience that they were likely shiny with his particular shade of pink. That wasn't what he was thinking about, of course; instead, his mind was on the lovely color of Tonton's soul, and the soft feel of his padded, warm hands, and the way his body curved and molded just right against him, as if made for him (which wasn't true, objectively, but it was a lovely coincidence all the same and he was grateful, so grateful). He thought of how his love brightened up the room just with his smile, his laugh. He thought of how smart he was, how clever, how witty, how educated, and maybe Pink found that to be one of the most attractive things about Tonton, his brilliant mind. The mental picture about the way Tonton would fix those cute butterfly glasses on his face (a nervous tick that came up whenever he studied a math problem or the data from the weather balloons) was the last straw before Pink came again, moaning what would have been his lover's name if it wasn't so garbled by the obstruction pinning down his tongue.

Still, it wasn't enough. Pink felt the frustrated tears building up around his sockets, the way saliva seeped out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin, but his hands barely paused. He was hard again in moments, hands moving feverishly as he contorted and squirmed in his debauched desperation. He could fuck himself all he wanted on these toys but it just wouldn't be enough to satisfy him, no more than his own hand would be.

Pink put in the effort to wring one more orgasm out of himself, hoping it would wear him out. He tried to think of something else, but his mind instantly went to a memory of Tonton again, this one of him sitting on the couch, a book in one hand and the other curled around his waist, then curled up to cover his mouth, blushing _adorably_ as he read a passage from a romantic novel. _Everything he did was god damn wonderful_ and Pink just couldn't stand it. He arched off the bed, coming again and this time trying to draw it out as long as possible before he collapsed. He wasn't done (not by a long shot, if anything he was _more_ horny) but at least he was a little worn out.

After laying there for a moment or two, panting through his nasal aperture, Pink slowly opened his eyes, pulling out the thoroughly used toy from between his legs. It was drenched like the rest of him, and like the rest of him would need to be washed thoroughly before being hidden away again. He reached up to carefully pry the gag toy from between his teeth when he noticed that the door, which had been closed before, was cracked open, and a familiar piercing eye was watching from behind it.

Wishing in that moment that he would just drop into dust, Pink yanked the toy from his mouth. "M-METTATON?!"

* * *

Mettaton had had another dull, stressful morning doing the morning traffic report (news was what kept his channel afloat, even if it wasn't his passion like his science and math and history programs). He set a rerun of one of his older recordings to play for a few hours, thinking that maybe some time at home would be best for his health. He recalled that Pink had today off too, so maybe they could watch a movie together?

He closed the apartment door behind him softly, re-locking it and letting the familiar ritual soothe his nerves. Pink wasn't in the livingroom, so maybe he had gone out.

...Or thats what Mettaton might have thought if it weren't for the sounds coming from the bedroom.

Mettaton quickly and silently made his way to the door, listening. _Was that crying? Was Pink having a bad dream? Had something horrid happened to him?_ Mettaton opened the door, every intention of being there for his love...

Only to see his boyfriend, half naked, sweaty, and _moaning_. Pink squirmed and wreathed on the sheets, legs spread and trembling as he fucked himself on some kind of toy. Mettaton couldn't quite bring himself to look away.

There was something viscerally satisfying about seeing that face flushed and teary eyed. It was nothing like any of Mettaton's memories of Pink, nothing like his joy or his anger.

Pink seized up, and Mettaton stopped breathing as he watched him climax. It was... strangely beautiful. Was this what Pink's clients and partners saw all the time?

...He wasn't going to think about that.

Pink finally sat up, seemingly finished. He looked calm, but a little frustrated, until he noticed Mettaton and seized up in shock. Mettaton recognized the shyness, the fear in his eyes.

"M-METTATON?!" Pink gasped as soon as his gag (which had been another dildo?!) was out of his mouth. His voice was hoarse, rough.

"I AM SO SORRY I DID NOT MEAN TO BE SO LOUD PLEASE HOLD ON A M-" Pink choked off into a few dry, wheezy coughs. "-MOMENT AND LET M- I KNOW IT’S MESSY GIVE ME A FEW MINUTES TO CLEAN UP AND SHOWER OKAY I AM SO SOR-"

"Can I come in, darling..?" Mettaton asked softly.

Pink immediately went quiet (like he always did, always stopping to listen to him, the dear, his sweet prince.) "...OF COURSE."

Mettaton crept closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. The sheets were soaked and the scent of sex and Pink's natural musk was thick in the air. "Are you... not getting what you need?" Pink never asked for sex from him, although they had had the talk about Pink getting his much needed 'physical therapy' (and that was the term they used, as if the word 'sex' was a slur to be avoided) from a few trusted regulars a few times a month. Pink had low LT levels, so he didn't need it as often, which was a blessing, but Mettaton couldn't help worrying.

"NO! I MEAN YES! I MEAN-" Pink looked away, shifting to hide his toys from view. "I JUST... I SOMETIMES HAVE URGES AND I AM SORRY THAT YOU HAD TO SEE THAT... I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO BE LONGER AT WORK... I CAN CLEAN UP."

"Urges? What kind?" Mettaton watched his boyfriend's face carefully. What he saw was unsettling, shame and guilt that did not belong. "It's okay. Please, talk to me?"

Pink hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I AM... GETTING MY PHYSICAL NEEDS MET. BUT SOMETIMES I... WISH I WAS GETTING THEM MET BY SOMEONE ELSE." He glanced at Mettaton (face still beautifully painted in that lovely color, tears still sliding down his handsome features), then looked away. "I... FANTASIZE ABOUT... ME... AND... YOU..."

Mettaton took a moment to process that. He felt his SOUL pulse and flutter, shaking off his unfounded worries and replacing them with delight. "Well, why didn't you ask?"

"I COULD NEVER- I MEAN- YOU- YOU SHARED YOUR PERSONAL FEELINGS WITH ME AND I NEVER EVER WANT TO REMIND YOU OF THE UNFAIR THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO YOU EVER BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I KNOW IT’S HARD ENOUGH BEING AROUND ME WHEN I AM LIKE THIS AND-"

Mettaton put a finger to Pink's teeth to shush him. _Stupid, wonderful man._ "You could never remind me of them. My problem was never with sex-" Pink gasped as though Mettaton had said a bad word. "-Yes, I said it. _Sex._ Honey, you're an ex prostitute, you know what _sex_ is."

"BUT-"

"And the fact you have been walking around worried about this for so long only tells me how much you care. But I care about you too. And if it's with you..." Mettaton cupped Pink's face, brushing at the liquid there. "Then I think I can manage."

Pink nuzzled into his gloved hand, face only glowing brighter. _He was so cute_. "IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE, PROMISE ME YOU'LL STOP?"

"I promise. Do you..." And now it was Mettaton's turn to blush, fully aware of the heat on his face. "Want... Help... now..??"

"I WOULD LIKE IT VERY MUCH ACTUALLY BUT PLEASE DO NOT FEEL OBLIGATED OKAY YOUR FEELINGS MATTER A LOT AND I WOULD NEVER WANT TO DO SOMETHING YOU DID NOT WANT TO DO BECAUSE I LOVE YOU VERY MU-"

Mettaton couldn't help but laugh, leaning in to shut up his wonderful, charming, _absolute idiot_ of a boyfriend with a kiss. It worked (it always worked), Pink making the softest noise of delight before wrapping his arms around Mettaton's chassis and pulling him closer. Mettaton shivered, relaxing into that kiss, curling one of his pipe arms around and behind to cup the back of Pink's skull.

When Mettaton pulled away, breaking the kiss, he enjoyed the brief moment when Pink's eyelights were visible, pulsing little hearts. _Dork_. "So. How do we go about this? I am not equipped with... um..." He gestured. "Since I never thought I would meet anyone I wanted to do this with..." He honestly abhorred the idea, in all its forms, until long after he had started dating Pink seriously. He still didn't like being touched or looked at by anyone else.

But Pink was safe. His Prince Charming. His number one fan.

Pink looked away again. "WELL... UM... ABOUT THAT..." He picked up the toys he had been using, wincing at just how _used_ they were. "I NEVER ACTUALLY THOUGHT YOU WOULD USE THEM BUT... I... MADE A FEW... AND BY A FEW I MEAN A LOT... MOSTLY FOR... UM... ME?"

Mettaton wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"I NOTICED THERE WAS AN INTERFACE PORT ALREADY BUILT INTO YOUR BASE SYSTEMS AND AT FIRST I JUST WANTED TO SEE IF I COULD MAKE SOMETHING TO FIT THERE BUT THEN I REALIZED WHAT IT WAS AND FIGURED YOU WOULD NOT WANT THAT AT ALL SO I NEVER BROUGHT IT UP BUT THEN THE THOUGHT OF... UM... YOU AND ME... DOING THAT..." He hid the toy again. "I THOUGHT MAYBE IT WOULD BE FINE IF I JUST MADE THEM FOR ME... TO USE... SO I WOULD NOT BOTHER YOU..."

Mettaton sighed softly. "Sweetie, what were you using to power those?"

"MY OWN MAGIC," Pink said firmly. "I WOULD NEVER EVER BREACH YOUR PRIVACY OR TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU LIKE THAT I WOULD NOT DO IT YOU CAN CHECK THEM IF YOU LIKE EXCEPT THEY ARE A LITTLE MESSY RIGHT NOW BUT IT’S BEEN ALL ME I PROMI-"

Mettaton had to cut him off with another kiss. "...Do you have a few clean ones I can try out?"

Pink gulped, nodded, and then got out of bed. Mettaton couldn't help noticing how he limped a little, how the juices slid down his femurs. Pink set the used toys on a towel (_thats his baby, thinking ahead_), then wiped his hands with sanitary wipes before pulling over a chest Mettaton only vaguely recalled seeing around while cleaning. He opened it and, sure enough, there were more, all looking slightly different. "I DID NOT KNOW WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE. BUT I HAD A FEW IDEAS... SO I MADE A NUMBER OF THEM..."

Mettaton carefully selected two of them, before popping open the panel near his groin. He supposed that having your boyfriend double as your mechanic had risks like this involved. He was hesitant at first, but sucked in a breath and fit the appendage into place, flinching as the circuits clicked and whirred and suddenly he was feeling a new part of his body.

"IF IT DOES NOT FEEL RIGHT YOU CAN TAKE IT OFF ANY TIME YOU LIKE I REALLY DO MEAN IT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DO ANYTHING YOU DO NOT WANT TO DO OKAY THIS IS COMPLETELY UP TO Y-"

How many times was Mettaton going to have to kiss him? Often and eagerly. "It's just new, sweetheart, I'll adjust. At my pace, just as you say, okay?"

"UH HUH." Pink seemed a bit dazed. His own dick was again at attention, and his body leaned into Mettaton, nuzzling his neck and shoulder.

Mettaton kissed the side of his skull. "Really, you worry too much..." _And he loved him for it._ Mettaton doubted he would be ready or willing for this sort of thing at all if Pink had been anything less than how wonderful he was. "Now... Is it okay if we... um... can I be behind you?" That would make it different than _before_ (he wasn't going to think about it).

"THAT SOUNDS PERFECT, DEAREST." Pink assured with a purr, nuzzling again. "WHATEVER YOU WANT. I AM VERY FLEXIBLE AND I WANT YOU TO ENJOY IT."

If Mettaton wasn't constantly aware of his diagnostics on a subliminal level he would have sworn he melted.

It took a bit more conversation (throughout which Pink was visibly excited and Mettaton couldn't stop his cracked soul's nervous flutters), before the stage was set: one of the other toys, remotely hooked up to Mettaton's systems through a bluetooth relay, was secured to the surface of their full length mirror at level with Pink's head when he was on all fours. Pink gradually eased his mouth around and onto it, swallowing it down into his summoned throat.

Mettaton gasped at the feeling (it was so different, loving intent sparking through his circuits and stirring his soul in a way that had him on his own knees for a moment. Worried, Pink started to pull off, but Mettaton stretched his arm to rest on the back of Pink's head. "No, its okay. Just... A lot."

They locked eyes through the mirror's reflection. Pink relaxed, returning to the slow, affectionate tongue undulations that had made Mettaton's head reel. Mettaton wondered for a moment if he was going to be able to handle two at once (perhaps that was too much for what he would always consider his first time), however, the look on Pink's face, blissful, was enough to banish any possible regret.

Mettaton stood up, shifting until he could align himself with Pink's already thoroughly prepared entrance (still dripping even now, if not more so than before). He hesitated, a muted panic bubbling just beneath the surface of his consciousness. _Was he doing it right?_ He didn't want to hurt Pink.

Mettaton's concerns appeared unfounded, as he seemed to slot into place just as perfectly as a plug into an outlet, only the most minimal of resistance, followed by a pressured grip that had him seeing stars.

"Oh- Oh, Papy, darling, I'm-" _This was a lot of affection._ Mettaton knew Pink loved him, but having that love applied to something with so many sensors crammed into it was a different experience entirely. For a minute or two, Mettaton just couldn't bring himself to move. He tried doing some internal tweaking, maybe to mute the sensation a little, give him a bit of breathing room. He was marginally successful. Turning his attention back to Pink, locking his eye on Pink's reflection in front of him, he began to gyrate his hips, slow at first, but gradually faster.

The way Pink moaned, the sound waves quivering over his remote synapses, shook Mettaton on a number of levels. He saw that blush creeping back in full force across Pink's face. _That was what he wanted._ Mettaton sped up his hips in earnest. He wanted to make his love happy, he wanted to give back.

Pink had done so much for him, right from the beginning. He wanted to make Pink feel just as loved.

Pink's cries grew increasingly louder. Mettaton ran his hand over Pink's soft ecto and the posterior of his prominent spinal column. His prince, his handsome, wonderful prince charming. It was empowering, reducing the man who made him feel so safe to a blushing, crying mess.

Mettaton felt Pink come around him, felt his scream travel through him. A groan of his own quivered in his throat, and he felt a smirk curl his lips. "That’s right, darling. Let me take care of you for once..." _Stars, he was gorgeous._ "Do you want to go some more?"

Mettaton wasn't afraid to admit it felt good when he saw, felt, the vicious nod he was given. He was going to be his boyfriend's personal therapy machine.

And wasn't that a great way to relieve a bit of stress?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just. thinking about how Pink has always been TonTon's fan. That Pink stans him. So hard. That he wrote him _fanmail_ and that fanmail became _love letters_ and then they started dating, and then they got to the surface and became roommates, and now finally pink is getting pegged by his idol
> 
> just- they still have each others letters hidden away somewhere and shit and pink probably still write him fanmail and signs it P and tonton probably still coos over it daydreaming about his prince _fuck you alphys its romantic_ and-
> 
> and then theyre home together and smooch and cuddle but today they get to fuck
> 
> i die a little inside. i love them so much


	6. Day 5: A Little Taste of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Feet | Sadism/Masochism | Feederism | Shotgunning  
**Kinks:** Feet | Feederism | Shotgunning (Smoke Sharing) | Edging | Foreplay | Massage  
**Pairing:** Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Horrortale!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; drug use
> 
> Red and Lust indulge in their low key pampering kink and Axe gets to be the one taken care of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.5k of how Red and Lust's ship would be different if they found Axe before Dance  
its sloppy but have it

Axe leaned back on the soft cushion that had been placed in Red's lap, looking around uncertainly. "ya sure ya really wanna..?"

Red huffed, although his face was pink and his eyelight was hazy. He brought the joint to his teeth, blowing a smoke ring and filling the air with the first of a bit more of the haze that was slowly accumulating in the dim light. "just lay back 'n relax, kitten. we gonna have ourselves a nice relaxin' evenin'." His hand settled thoughtfully on Axe's throat, sharp, powerful claws caressing the fragile bone reverently.

A low, sweet intonation came from the other end of the bed, where Axe felt hands carefully raise his legs by the ankles and settle his feet on someone's warm lap. He looked down, single red eyelight jittering nervously in his skull as his gaze fell on Lust.

Lust smiled, sliding Axe's ratty slippers off his socked feet. "if you don't want to, sweetie, its okay. we can stop whenever you want... this is just us trying to show you we care."

Axe wiggled his toes, amused when Lust cupped his foot and began to skillfully grind out the soreness and tension. Axe had to admit, the guy was good with his hands. It wasn't long before Axe felt all of the tension worked away and he felt limp and revitalized from the ankle down. "heh. who would say no ta free pampering, huh? go ahead with whatever."

red chuckled. "glad t' hear it." he set his blunt down, picking up a bunch of grapes. "sweethearts been chompin' at th' bit t' get his hands on ya."

Lust sputtered, face going a color Axe recalled seeing on a flower on the fringes of his farm. "i- well... i don't mean to make you uncomfortable, sweetie, but it's true, i've been wanting to show you i care for a while... and this is a way i'm pretty good at~"

Red gave Lust a knowing, unimpressed look, which softened after a few heavy moments, and Axe just couldn't parse the meaning of. "so. ya in? last chance before we start."

"but you can call the safeword anytime, baby," Lust assured. "you remember it?"

"blue." that was an easy thing for Axe to remember. _Blue means stop._

"there ya go." Red scritched tenderly at the underside of Axe's jaw, forcing his head to tilt back for comfort (and to give Red more access). "now sit back, relax, 'n leave it t' me."

Axe let his sockets flutter shut in bliss, sighing contentedly. "okay," he mumbled, right before he smelled the proximity of those grapes, dangling the perfect distance for him to snag one between his teeth and enjoy its crisp flavor. _He_ certainly wasn't going to complain.

The heavy scent of Red's weed, bitter and blunt, was starting to affect Axe in ways he could recognize. His ache in his skull, usually constant and inescapable, had gradually been replaced by a pleasant buzz and empty heaviness. A fleeting thought that he was leaving himself vulnerable crossed the fringes of his mind, but any attention he might have given it was redirected to instead enjoy his relaxation to its fullest.

If they were going to make him feel this good, Axe decided they could do just about whatever they wanted with him. Maybe it was just his faulty memory, but he couldn't recall ever feeling quite as safe, comfortable, and loved in his life.

* * *

Red looked down on his newest pet, thankful for the aid of the blunt to help keep him calm. Axe's sockets were shut, head tilted back and throat bare under his hand. Red felt heat buzzing through every one of his limbs, pooling in his joints and mouth just looking at this display of trust.

This skittish, injured thing was laying docile in his lap, eating out of his hand, and Red hadn't felt this excited since Lust crawled into his lap and let him collar him.

From the steady thrum coming from said collar, and the way he was watching Axe's face, Lust was of the same mind. Red spared a glance at his first pet, feeling the smirk curl at his teeth. Lust was rolling Axe's ankle, cradling his foreleg with the utmost care as he worked to erase the tension in their mutual pet's legs.

Red left him to it, returning his attention to Axe. He offered him another grape, individually as opposed to off the vine. Axe took it, careful of his teeth against Red's claws. His sockets were still squinted shut, but Red could see the smile reaching them.

Red offered him a few more little grapes before pulling over the plate of veggie kabobs. He pulled off a fried sweet pepper, testing for certain it had cooled enough for comfortable consumption, and offered it to Axe next. Axe bit into it, blinking one eye open to look at what he had, before making the _most a-fucking-dorable noise_ Red could ever ask for. Axe practically sucked down the pepper, squinting contentedly, and Red could feel the undulation of Axe's magic under his hand when he swallowed.

Red was stunned, somehow. _His pets were the cutest fucking things_, and he was _making them this happy_. Red felt like he was on fire. The way Axe licked at his claws, stealing the juice from the tips of his fingers, didn't help matters.

"hey," Axe mumbled, his single red eyelight catching Red's attention. "gonna... share the weed too?"

"anythin' ya want, kitt'n," Red felt himself growl. He took a deep drag from his blunt, violent and hungry, then cradled Axe's face in his hands and leaned in. Axe gave him a surprised expression, but his hand reached up to fist into Red's shirt, pulling himself up to meet him halfway. Red pressed their teeth together, breathing out. He heard the sharp inhale Axe took, drinking that same smoke in for himself.

When Red pulled away, he could see Axe already beginning to further mellow. Axe let out a soft laugh, almost a cough. "yeah. that'd work..." He let his head fall to one side, blinking slow.

Red returned to giving Axe gentle throat scratches, working affectionate little circles into the smooth bone as he considered what to feed him next...

* * *

Lust was largely working on autopilot at first, watching Red and Axe intently from the corner of his eyes. Easing the tension from Axe's feet and ankles was easy enough (although he would need to remember to offer more often – poor darling was so tense, likely from being on his feet all day), it gave him something to do while he creepily watched his two datemates: Axe's face, relaxed and trusting; Red's face, and how it lit up whenever Axe ate what he gave him; how they kissed. Lust couldn't repress the shiver going through him; he loved those two so much it _hurt_.

Lust decided he would need to work a little harder to show it.

Carefully, Lust peeled away Axe's socks, setting them aside. Axe's bare metatarsals were scuffed up, telling a story Lust didn't like the implications of. He thumbed at them, imparting as much love and tenderness as he could muster, pressing a little kiss to his hallux.

Axe sucked in a breath, and it was probably luck that he hadn't been trying to eat anything at the time. His face dusted over in pink, softer than the vivid crimson that suffused Red's cheeks. Lust truly loved those warmer colors, pressing another kiss to the metatarsophalangeal joints, his fingers teasing at the spaces between the individual bones. Axe shivered, fisting the sheets under him and turning his head away as if to hide in Red's coat.

Red rumbled, deep and pleased. He coaxed Axe to turn his head back, a gentle grip on Axe's chin. Axe squinted up at him, his single eyelight softened from its sharp neon glow, blown out and wisping. Red leaned in and offered Axe another hit, breathing it into him, and Lust could tell from the way his ribs expanded and retracted that Axe accepted the offer.

Lust again nuzzled the bottom of Axe's foot, but his one hand wandered up Axe's foreleg, thumbing lovingly at his patella before coming back down. He slowly scooted himself so he was between Axe's legs instead of under them, and started working on bending and stretching his joints properly. Lust brought one leg up, bent ninety degrees at the hip and patella both, cradling it so he could kiss Axe's calcaneus, his talus, his medial malleolus. He sighed happily at each little whimper he coaxed from Axe, at the shimmering scarlet light that spread from each joint he showed love to.

When he looked to catch a glance at Axe's face, he saw that his calm, blissfulness had only deepened, and that Red was coaxing him to drink from a juicebox.

Lust switched legs, giving the same to the other side of Axe, until he was certain both legs were relaxed and comfortable. He scooted closer, until he was able to situate Axe's legs around his hips comfortably, and stroking lovingly at Axe's iliac crests. Axe made a choked noise, and Lust stilled his hands, checking on him.

Axe was seemingly fine, between treats and flushed a beautiful gradating scarlet, sockets shut and panting softly. He was drenched in sweat by this point, glittering like the sweetest candy rocks. Red looked down on him fondly, murmuring a bit of praise in a low purr as he wiped drool from Axe's chin with a swipe of his thumb.

Lust resumed his massage. Axe was metaphorically boneless under him, only really moving when it meant being able to eat what he was fed.

Lust pulled those pesky shorts out of the way, easing them down and setting them aside. Axe offered up no complaint, and Lust was free to let his hands roam.

Lust felt the heat in his own body building tight, but he forced it down. It wasn't the time yet. Axe deserved all the preparation and foreplay.

Lust eased his hand up into Axe's pelvic inlet, ghosting his phalanges over his sacrum foramen with a genuine reverence. Axe's hitched breath spurred him on, teasing the edges and tracing the divots between them. The scarlet magic holding his darling together pooled beneath his fingers, responding excitedly to his touch. Lust brought his other hand to Axe's pubic symphysis, thumb on the outer surface as fingers curled to support the inner one, stroking firmly in slow, arrhythmic motions.

Lust looked up to watch Axe's reactions carefully, moving his hands by feel to where he needed them, where it would please his datemate the most. Axe was open, responsive, an attribute that seemed to please Red as much as it did Lust. Axe's panting sped up, becoming shallow and desperate. His pelvis rocked against Lust's hand, seeking more.

Lust kept up his affections until Axe seized up, spine arching, and his magic sputtered around Lust's hands in an explosion of bliss. Axe held that position for a few glorious seconds before collapsing again, gasping for air.

Red stroked his skull, careful not to irritate the hole. "wuzzat good?" he asked, low and guttural, oozing devotion.

"..._fuck_." Axe's voice was raw, damp and wavering.

"takin' that as a yeah," Red hummed. He leaned down again, a soft nuzzle to Axe's frontal bone.

"i hate to ask, sweetie," Lust cut in quietly, feeling his own pressing need swell as the scent of Axe's magic, thick and tempting and redolent of autumn leaves crunching underfoot, of harvest and plenty and sunrise, "but... would you be up for..?" He pulled his hands away from Axe entirely, and at seeing the mess they were in, was compelled to lick one of his hands clean. He thoroughly enjoying the thicker, stronger taste of him. "...for maybe me..?"

Axe chuckled, and a few moments later, he had made a bright, scarlet pussy, dripping and waiting in Lust's lap. "go nuts, babe. just be gentle."

Lust groaned at the offer, shifting to bring his head down to kiss at Axe's thigh, and taste him directly. He let his own eyes drift shut, groaning in one breath and whining in the next as his arousal finally forced his dick to manifest in his overly tight leather pants. He didn't stop, licking at Axe's ecto and easing him open carefully with first his tongue, then his fingers. _Axe deserved all the gentleness in the world._ He would give it to him right.

Judging by the curses, whimpers, and mewling he could hear, Lust was doing exactly that.

It was only after Axe's second orgasm, a damp, sudden thing, did Lust pull away to check his work. Axe was a squirming mess, drooling (translucent pink and healthy saliva, none of that heartbreaking black ooze) and panting in Red's lap. Red had set the food aside finally, instead curling around Axe and petting him, scratching at his neck and clavicle. Red looked perfectly content and satisfied, flushed but calm.

Lust scooted back enough to stand and unbuckle his pants. He gasped as if for air as his dick came free, stiff and aching like a feverish bruise. He tossed his pants away to some far off and forgotten corner of the room, returning to the more pleasurable position of kneeling between Axe's legs. Cradling Axe's pelvis in one hand and lining himself up with the other, he eased into the soft, warm, welcoming folds with a sigh.

Axe gasped and clawed at the bed, sounding as if the profanity he uttered had been punched out of him.

Lust sank in to the hilt, and then held still, supporting himself on either side of Axe's spine. He felt the smile on his face, looking his lover up and down and wondering again how he had gotten so lucky.

When he felt Axe relax around him, Lust began to move, slow and gentle and sweet. He moved Axe's shirt up and out of the way, leaning in to press loving kisses to his ribs, letting the pleasure suffuse them both. "baby, you feel so good, thank you, thank you, _fuck_-!!" Lust stilled, fighting his hips to keep from going any harder or faster than he had been.

Axe whined in frustration. Red chuckled. "shh, just relax, kitt'n. we gotcha..."

Axe exhaled slow. "i know i said gentle, but i c'n take more..!"

Lust felt the grin spread across his face, leaning up further to beg for a kiss. Axe gave it to him, hungry and sloppy and perfect.

"let me make love to you," Lust begged. "please?"

Axe smiled, indulgent. "...okay."

Purring himself, Lust resumed his languid pace. He was proud to say he didn't stop until long after Axe's seventh orgasm, when his love was sleepy and sated and saturated in the passion he inspired. Lust pulled out, letting his own satisfied magic dissipate before crawling up to join Axe in Red's lap.

Red, the darling, draped them both in a blanket, moving them until he could lay down and be the big spoon, Axe in the middle and Red's claws pulling Lust closer. Red leaned in to take a kiss Lust was happy to give, before the three of them settled in.

Lust was lulled by the sound of a low purr, and the satisfaction of knowing there was nothing in that room but love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cute ship


	7. Day 6: Intoxicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Daddy | Corset | Cock Worship | Biting  
**Kinks:** Cock Worship | Biting | Suit Kink | Tie Pulling | PDA  
**Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Swapfell!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; alcohol use; jealousy
> 
> Razz is Dance's committed, designated sober friend. And Dance is certain he is the one with benifits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.2k of me shipping dance and razz because i thought it would be funny

Razz had had enough. He gripped the brat by the scruff of his ratty hoodie, growling softly. "WE ARE GOING HOME."

"no, leggo," Dance hissed, trying to dig his heels in. He was a bit taller than Razz when it came down to bare feet, but Razz's heels leveled the playing field and then some, giving him a few inches of height advantage. "that asshole hazzit comin-"

Razz yanked on Dance's scruff, shaking him. Dance went limp, growling low in that way that drew Razz's undivided attention. Razz narrowed his sockets. _Brat_. "YOU CAN NOT PICK A FIGHT WITH EVERYONE WHO CALLED YOU NAMES."

"i aint picking a fight just 'cuz-"

"OR ME NAMES."

"...he hazzit comin! leggo!"

Razz kept dragging Dance through the crowd. "YOU ARE DRUNK." _And stupid. Too stupid, given that Dance had a degree in such a demanding field._

"yer sexy."

Razz shivered, tightening his grip. He wasn't going to let this brat get away with this. "SILENCE. WE ARE GOING HOME."

"and then i'mma eat ya alive."

Razz felt another shiver go down his spine. "BRAT..!"

It was a long walk home. Razz considered calling a cab, but from the way Dance draped himself over him, clinging to him and wrinkling his finely pressed suit, he did not think that sitting down would be the most strategically sound.

Dance growled, winding Razz's tie around his hand. "yer so... fuckin... powerful... i swear... you dangerous bastard. i hate ya so much..."

Razz thought maybe Dance would have been more convincing if he wasn't nuzzling his face into Razz's shoulder, stumbling over his own feet in his effort to be as close as possible. Razz sighed, scooping Dance up in a bridal hold to continue walking a steady, brisk pace down the dimly lit sidewalk.

"yer no fun..." Dance mumbled, a low, soundless rumble quivering in his ribs. "no fun. fun hater."

"YES. I AM AWARE." Razz deadpanned. He could smell the sweetness and fermentation on Dance's breath, the last condemning traces of the wine he had consumed throughout the night. Razz knew this would be the way it ended. He knew very well how bar nights with Dance tended to go: the humming, the drinking, the eventual jealous fighting until Dance was ready to throw hands, the sloppy fight flirting and walk of shame.

He knew what would happen when they finally got home.

Dance trilled softly against Razz's collarbone, drooling lightly on the folded collar of Razz's suit coat. Razz sighed, world weary of the many predictable ways his clothes managed to get messed up now. Dance continued to mumble drunkenly, most of it babbles of threats about how he would be ending the night. Some of those all-but-promises even sounded viable.

"imma kick yer ass," Dance bluffed, breath battering hot against Razz's neck as he turned a corner. "i'mma... i'mma punch yer face. softy. with my face. that'll show ya."

"YES." Razz answered dryly as he finally reached the apartment door, waving his ID tag at the far-too-amused bellhop. "THAT WILL TEACH ME SUCH A LESSON."

"yeah," Dance agreed, missing the sarcastic undertones. "show ya whose boss. show ya who yer daddy is-"

Razz bristled at the word, almost tripping over his own feet as he nearly walked face first into the closed elevator doors. He hip checked the button with a tad more aggression than he probably should have, ignoring the revulsion and tightness in his chest.

Dance had gone oddly quiet for a few moments. "hey." It was soft. "heeeeeeeey."

Razz ignored him, deciding his drunken blathering would be best dismissed until they got to his suite. He stepped into the empty elevator, shifting to (more gently) tap the correct button with his extended finger. The little bell went off, the doors closing and trapping them in.

"hey-!" That was more insistent. Dance gripped Razz on either side of his face. "donchu ignore me. i said hey. wut i say."

"I AM NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU WHEN YOU ARE THIS DRUNK," Razz said crisply. "YOU WILL FORGET IT IN THE MORNING."

"hey. fuckface." That was Razz's only warning before he was being kissed, possessively, hungrily, an act insisting on his full attention as Dance's greedy tongue licked at his teeth, demanding entrance.

Razz felt his stiffness dissolve, leaning inelegantly against the elevator wall and allowing Dance his chance to play conqueror. He pulled Dance closer, supporting him more to encourage the act to continue, to prolong it. It wasn't as though Razz was able to breathe anyway.

The elevator door opened on his floor, and Razz was a tad more encouraged to reach their destination just that little bit faster. He broke the kiss (chuckling at Dance's growl of displeasure) and power-walked down the hall to their door. He finally set Dance (mostly) on his own feet (continuing support under his arms) so he would have a free hand to unlock the door.

Dance had other plans, throwing his full weight into Razz to pin him to the door and take another kiss, his hands already working to unbutton Razz's dress suit coat, and then the dress shirt underneath. Razz felt his knees buckle just that little bit, his traitorous body threatening to succumb to the temptation before reaching the safety of their home.

"fuck'rs dunno wut they're sayin'..." Dance mumbled, finding his hands to be struggling with the concept of a button and focusing more attention to the task.

"THEY WERE JUST YOUR GARDEN VARIETY RACISTS," Razz snorted, smirking. Dance's drunken protectiveness always proved amusing.

"sayin' shit- sayin'- sayin' how you'd look better on yer knees..." Dance hissed.

"THEY THINK OF US AS LESSER, IT IS NO REASON TO PROVE THEM CORRECT BY LOSING CONTROL," Razz explained again.

Dance paused... "...you didn't get it..." He started to giggle, and then laugh. Then Dance was kissing him again, softer, sweeter, and Razz really might have fallen to his knees if he hadn't already been pinned to the door. "mr no fun... nobody gets ta see ya on yer knees but me..."

"WELL-" Razz cleared his throat, trying to clear his head of the hazy mess Dance insisted on leaving it (_really, him and his fucking messes_), "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO SEE ANYTHING UNTIL WE ARE IN OUR OWN HOME." He gripped Dance's wrists to move them away, finally getting free enough to unlock the door and let them both into the apartment.

Razz loved the apartment lifestyle. He liked the home he had with his brother too, but there was something special about having an apartment to run away to: for one, he didn't have to worry about Slim's trash pet; for another, he didn't have to worry about Dance getting in a fight with Slim's trash pet.

And as an added bonus, the couch was fair game when Dance's impatience won out.

Dance shoved Razz onto his couch, straddling his lap and again fighting to remove the layers of clothes Razz had so carefully put on that morning. Razz sighed, this time helping him with the many buttons. When Dance saw the work was being done for him, he busied himself with clinging to Razz and kissing him. On the mouth, then the jaw, and then the neck. Razz felt Dance's tongue flick out just before he bit down, wrapping around a cut he'd gotten years ago and lapping at it.

Razz threw his head back with a hiss, his fingers stalling before undoing the last few buttons. Then his hands were around Dance, clawing at his stupid, frumpy hoodie (_he hated that thing, it didn't fit him and Dance looked so much better in a nicely tailored suit_).

"yeah..." Dance purred, nibbling a bit more gently. "ya fucker. stuck up fun hater. priss. look at ya. not so tough now, huh? doin' exactly what i want."

"YOU. ARE WORSHIPING. ME." Razz corrected him. He hated how his voice was already flimsy and wavered. One hand slid down, undoing the buttons of his pants to free his cock. "SO DO IT PROPERLY, PLEB."

Dance growled. He slid down to sit between Razz's legs, on the floor. He threw one of Razz's legs over his shoulder, forcing him to rest his heel on the coffee table. Razz tried to move his leg to the side (_he knows that he hates having feet on the god. damn. table!_) but before he could, Dance had his dick, cradled properly (_worshipfully_) in one hand as he pressed his teeth tenderly to it, licking softly up his length.

Razz's complaints about whatever it was Dance had done to irritate him (_it had to be something, he was always doing something_) fizzled and died as his traitorous soul became laser focused on the intent being beaten into him so sweetly. He felt something claw its way up his throat, guttural and low and breathless, but he couldn't quite recognize the word in that first overwhelming moment.

"heh... yeah... fuck, i love it when ya curse. do it again." Dance sounded so pleased with himself. _Brat._

"I DO NOT-" Razz denied, only to have his mental faculties again derailed when Dance resumed his kisses, licks, and now the languid stroking of his hand. Razz felt himself go limp, losing his usual sharpness, his crispness, his edge. Heat suffused his bones, making them sweat as though he were in some kind of intense workout, starting at the tips of his toes and working its way up.

He knew this would happen. It always happened on bar nights. Razz let himself go under, drowning in the indecent things Dance always wanted to do to him. After all, Razz deserved to be appreciated. He deserved to get to enjoy it.

Razz had to let Dance remind him he deserved to be loved.

* * *

Dance still felt giddy, dizzy and unfettered, but there was something sobering about the noises Razz made when he was aroused like this. Dance nibbled gently at the base of his shaft, thumbing at the tip where pre was welling up freely. He watched, unblinking (_not wanting to miss a moment_) as Razz's back arched, throwing back the opened ends of his jacket and shirt, exposing his ribs further. One shoulder was starting to slip off, exposing Razz's neck where Dance had bitten, exposing the scars, chips, and scrapes that were swelling up and bleeding a proud purple light, flecks of gold shimmering through where the wounds were deepest. Razz was drenched in sweat, glistening like a precious jewel, bones discolored and greyed from dust exposure yet looking more like silver to Dance's eyes.

_Those fuckers in the bar didn't know the half of how good Razz looked, all vulnerable and his._

Dance stroked a little faster, swirling his tongue over Razz's tip, enjoying the taste of stability and purpose, of being found, of chilled citrus and structure. Leave it to Razz to have his essence be cleanliness and kick. Dance didn't mind. He nuzzled the shimmering construct in his hands, hooded sockets fixed on his datemate's face. Being so close to so much LV was... overwhelming. Dance still had trouble with it, with just how much this monster was.

That just made seeing Razz so affected, so senseless and at his mercy, that much more thrilling. Razz never showed this openness to anyone: he was always guarded, on alert, and completely in control. Breaking that down, ripping his walls apart and building him back up again; that was what made being with Razz so rewarding. _Dance_ was the one he trusted, _Dance_ was the one he handed the wheel to at night, when they were alone and safe.

And Dance loved him for it.

Razz grit his teeth, clawing at the couch cushions under him (_a point of pride in Dance's opinion; Razz was always so outraged when he found the leather ripped later, it was adorable_). His ribs were beginning to quiver, a soft, low purr, like that of a small kitten, settling as the bass to the treble of his breathless moans. Dance dragged this stage out as long as he dared, sucking softly at the tip and working a steady rhythm with his strokes. He loved seeing Razz such a mess, the uptight, joyless public image ruffled and ruined.

Nobody had any idea how cute he was. Not really.

Dance started to ease Razz down his throat before he lost his own control and said it out loud. Stuffy bastard didn't need to get a bigger head.

Dance took his time drinking everything Razz had to give, swallowing around him. He watched Razz shake and squirm, listened to his pretty whimpers and delighted in the curses he could wring from him.

When Razz finally came, spent and delirious on the high of his afterglow, Dance pulled off of him and licked his teeth mostly clean. He crawled up into Razz's lap again, taking another kiss that was his by right.

Razz grumbled something unintelligible when Dance broke that kiss, something indignant in his perpetual petulance. Dance snickered, picking him up (_the funniest part about Razz was just how god damn light he was_) and readjusting them on the couch to curl up together. Dance unlaced his datemate's unnecessarily large boots (_who needs six inch heels?? Razz' 4'11" ass, apparently, heheh, shorty_) and then took his rightful place as the big spoon.

Razz naturally spun to cling to him, growling another meaningless bit of nonsense before drifting to sleep.

_Victorious_, Dance settled in to join him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of them think they are the dom. Only one of them is right.
> 
> They probably do this regularly because dance insists razz take time to have fun. they both know what happens. they're both pretty cool with it
> 
> razz is apoplectic about the couch and the mess in the morning and dance is amused and probably gets a repeat performance before and during the morning shower


	8. Day 7: Brotherly Love 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Praise-kink | Body Swap | Aphrodisiacs | Incest  
**Kinks:** Praise-kink | Body Swap | Aphrodisiacs | Incest | Humiliation | Tentacles  
**Pairing:** Dreammare (Dream / Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; parallel to drug use; rape/non-con; incest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.3k of my headcanon of dream and nightmare, which nobody is going to like or enjoy XD
> 
> please look at and read the tags here. this is not light fluffy goodness. this is objectively awful and unfair.

Nightmare couldn't believe his luck. When Killer had reported that Dream was alone, unconscious, and vulnerable in some back end fringe universe, he hadn't believed it. He still couldn't believe it. But there he was, right there, a a sweaty, exhausted pile of faintly rattling wood, quivering like a willow in the path of a storm.

Nightmare was pleased to be that storm, sauntering closer to his brother, his enemy.

Nightmare sauntered closer to Dream, taking him in. Dream was flushed, that gaudy golden light suffusing his face and joints. His body, bone the color of unblemished white birch, shook and rattled and panted, not quite moving, but not the stillness of death. His brows were furrowed, and his breathing was heavy and stilted. Whatever had his brother under was not restful (_and wasn't that just a right shame_). Dream also lacked his usual aura of positivity, as though he had been cut off from his greatest sources.

Nightmare had no such problem.

Nightmare took two more steps, and the moment he was within arms reach, there was a flash of light all around him, blinding him, and then-

Then-

Then he was _dizzy_, and _hot_, and _weak_. Nightmare felt like he couldn't move an inch, that just breathing was a monumental chore. At the same time, he couldn't stop squirming, seeking out any kind of friction at all, anywhere. He'd never craved textile sensation to this degree in his life. He tried to summon and control his tentacles, the vines and roots that grew from his soul, to direct them to his satisfaction, only to find they would not come, his source of power cut from him.

"What is h-happening?!" Nightmare demanded to know, hating how his voice cracked.

"You fell for a rather ingenious trap," Dream's voice came from above him.

It was only then that Nightmare realized his eyes were closed. Opening them was a struggle, and he couldn't quite get them as wide as he wanted. his vision was blurred, and it took some blinking to focus. At first, Nightmare was certain he was seeing things, because it wasn't Dream, but Nightmare himself, looming over him.

Or something that _looked_ like Nightmare.

Nightmare's body regarded itself, one hand running up the opposite arm, stroking the tentacles that it flexed and coiled and stretched around it. It smiled, a calm, amused smile. "How fun. I had been concerned it would be a failure," came Dream's voice, from _Nightmare's fucking body_. "It was quite a risk, you know, using myself as bait."

"W-what?? How-??"

"Is that really what you want to talk about? How? Shouldn't you be more concerned about why?" Dream straddled Nightmare's current (borrowed, swapped) body, looming with his face closer, dripping the dark, fermented sap that oozed from him in waves and adding to Nightmare's disorientation. "Because the why is so much more interesting... I'm giving you a gift, brother dear. A chance to be me, and feel in the depths of your soul just how good that feels."

"I feel l-like-" _He's hot, he's sweaty, he's practically paralysed from it, its hard to think, and he's constantly being distracted by a persistent need to be touched-_ "garbage. Am- am I-" Nightmare looked down at himself. Sure enough, there were the bleached bones and tacky gold regalia of his brother's position. He looked back up at Dream-in-_his-motherfucking-body_, trying to glare a hole through his own head.

Dream-in-Nightmare's-Body smirked, soft and condescending and superior. "You know, that look suits me. I'm rather well suited to expressions of outrage and disdain. But then again, so are you. And we are twins."

"Fuck you-" Nightmare-in-Dream's-Body hissed.

"That is the plan."

And before Nightmare could even conceptualize what that was supposed to mean, his- Dream's- _his own tentacles under Dream's control_ were ripping the clothes off of his borrowed body, carefully maneuvering his useless limbs like a doll to remove those clothes without ripping them, letting the fabric slide over his heated frame and send electricity and pleasure coursing through him.

"I overdosed on a powerful aphrodisiac, so much so that that body will be oversensitive and largely useless for a while yet. The effect is so overwhelming that even my ability to consume positivity is hindered, leaving it rather weak and defenseless. Interesting, isn't it? I wonder if your body would react the same?" Dream cupped Nightmare's face (the one Nightmare was currently wearing, as opposed to his own), tilting his chin up to make him meet Dream's eyes (the ones that should have been his own, now stolen). "I guess I'll see about that later. But for now... I'm going to let you enjoy some _body positivity_."

A tentacle wrapped around Nightmare's borrowed lumbar spine, squeezing gently, stroking it. The ooze it constantly emitted was liquid enough to be decent lubricant, mixing with the sweat already there, (leaving strawberry pink trails in its wake) and creating a damp, burning friction. Nightmare flinched from it, struggling weakly against the tendrils holding his wrists and ankles spread apart. Nightmare felt saliva slide down his borrowed jaw from the corner of his gritted teeth. He hated how the upward stroke made him suck in a sharp breath, and how the downward ripped it out of him again.

Dream's borrowed hands settled on Nightmare's borrowed iliac crests, smoothing his slick palm over them. "You look amazing like this. Once I find the power to purify you, I can make you look this lovely all the time, Night. Its a perfect little teaser for my reward. I miss you, you know..."

Nightmare had plenty of saliva pooling under his tongue. It wasn't hard to spit it in Dream's face.

Dream didn't even flinch. The tentacle still rubbing off Nightmare's spine never faltered. Dream just smiled. "That fight. I'm so proud. You never did have much of a backbone before. But you've grown so strong."

"I'm g- gonna kill y-you," Nightmare promised, for neither the first nor the last time. He felt his borrowed body heating up even further. _Proud? Strong??_ Lies. They had to be lies.

Everyone thought Dream was a sweet, cute, innocent little angel. Nobody saw through his bullshit. Nobody saw that he was exactly the same as Nightmare, cruel and hungry and indomitable. Nobody realized that if he survived on positivity, ate of it, it meant he left its absence behind. Fools.

Yet his words were effective. Nightmare felt the heaviness, the weight, of ecto taking shape at his pelvis, a stiff cock forming. _That was a first_: Nightmare had never been able to make one before, it simply wasn't in his makeup for that to be possible. The fact that he could in Dream's body surely meant it was their duality working against him in yet another way.

Dream smiled, but ignored the ecto for the time being, instead weaving more tendrils through Nightmare's borrowed ribs, massaging them, teasing the places where the pale bark had never been, leaving exposed, sensitive surfaces near the joints and on the inside. "I can imagine how nice you'll look, my complement, my opposite. If this is mine, then you surely must have a lovely pussy waiting for me, waiting for the day I can cleanse you of this cloying taint and bring you home."

Nightmare shook, feeling his hips bucking, seeking friction. He was seeing stars, but none of Dream's attentions were getting him anywhere. Dream was keeping it slow, gentle, cruelty disguised as kindness. It was one of the things Nightmare hated about him. That, and the way he tended to just _run his fucking mouth_.

The heat was building, and now so was the pressure. Nightmare tried to hold still, to look as bored and disinterested as possible (something he knew from experience was exceedingly annoying when he had someone in his grip) but he couldn't stop _squirming_. He couldn't calm his breathing. He couldn't even hold his fucking voice in. And it was _his_ voice, not Dream's, that was coming out in breathless tatters.

"Enjoying yourself, brother dear? You look like you are. You feel like you are. You're dripping and hard and writhing so sweetly..." Dream leaned in and stole a kiss, slow and deep and selfish.

Nightmare could taste the cider of his own magic on Dream's tongue, could taste the sweeter aroma of Nightmare's borrowed saliva mixing with his stolen magic, turning it to something else, something more complete. Nightmare vaguely thought about biting Dream, but he couldn't dredge up the willpower to do it. _It was so hot, he was burning up, he just wanted to be touched, all over, everywhere._ And the strangest thing, _it felt good_-?! Wherever Dream let the tentacles brush and tease and rub, it sent electricity through Nightmare's being, curling his toes and dragging another shameful moan from him. Nightmare had no leverage and no strength, but still his hips rocked, seeking something, anything, to try and push him to completion.

"Darling Night," Dream purred. "I'm so glad you're enjoying my gift. I planned it special for you. But still you just aren't satisfied..." He leaned in, taking another selfish kiss for himself. "I want to please you, Night. So lets see what I could have missed..."

Nightmare opened his mouth to snarle a, 'Fuck you, get the fuck out of my body and then die,' but had a tentacle shoved between his teeth. It rubbed gently at the roof of his mouth, weeping his fermented apple ooze down his throat and forcing him to swallow. The scent was pervasive and disorienting, making his head reel.

"No no, don't tell me, let me figure it out..." Dream murmured in Nightmare's ear. He kissed his neck. "Is it here..? Or..." He nibbled down, before kissing on Nightmare's clavicle. "Here..?" He dragged his tongue in a long, slow lick from the tip of Nightmare's sternum to the edge of his shoulder. Nightmare hated the vulnerable keen that was stolen out of him. Dream's deep chuckle as a sign that he loved it (the sick fuck).

Dream leaned back with a sigh, cupping Nightmare's cheek and thumbing at it. "So cute. Nobody believes me when I tell them how cute my brother is. Really, when I finally bring you home, I'll have to show them. Don't worry..." He leaned in to lick the tears from Nightmare's face, leaving more pink where their magics melded. "You'll like it too. You'll like everything I do to you, just. Like. Now..."

And that's when Nightmare felt it, a slender finger teasing up the length of his dick and swirling around the tip. The shameless cry he let out was only vaguely muffled by the gag. Nightmare couldn't stop himself bucking into Dream's hand, aching as the need to be touched was reignited tenfold by that gentle attention.

"Oho? Here?" Dream asked again, smile audible in his voice. He gripped firmly on Nightmare's shaft, squeezing softly. Nightmare squeezed his sockets shut, trembling with the closeness of his denied orgasm. He sobbed, struggling uselessly in his attempts to somehow chase after it.

"Here? Here..." Dream murmured, leaning in to kiss and nibble at Nightmare's neck as he began to slowly, pointlessly stroke him. "Oh, yes, you like this. You enjoy this, don't you? My precious Night. My beautiful Night. You like how sweetly I treat you..."

Dream let go, and Nightmare couldn't hold back another cry of outrage, desperation and humiliation and the overwhelming pleasure that was going _absolutely nowhere_.

"But that's not what you really want, is it?" Dream growled, deeper than anyone would ever believe of him. "No. If this is me... then what you like is..."

And then there was a tentacle prodding as Nightmare's hole. Nightmare almost choked, fighting a little harder. _No! No! He had been humiliated enough, he couldn't let him see what that did-!!_

Dream hummed, trailing a finger lazily up and down Nightmare's sternum, a ticklish distraction. "Shh... relax. Don't worry, I'll go slow. Only the best for you, my darling Night."

Nightmare locked eyes with Dream again, shuddering under that crisp, demanding gaze. He hoped that he looked even half as terrible and awesome when he wore his own face. Then Nightmare felt it, the tentacle pressing deep inside him, and threw his head back.

It took Dream only moments to find it, that bundle of nerves that demanded the summoning of uncontrollable pleasure. Nightmare hated how he moaned, twisted, and cried as he was stimulated from the inside. For only stars know how long, Nightmare was held on that cusp, and he couldn't think. He hung there, mewling as he was pounded into softly, slowly, agonizingly sweet.

And then he came. Nightmare came from his ass.

He didn't think he would ever live down the humiliation.

* * *

Dream carefully lowered his precious twin down to the ground, looming over him. Nightmare, in his body, was covered in streaks of gold and pink and purple-so-dark-it-looked-black. He was teary-eyed, drooling, and twitching irregularly as he was racked by his afterglow. He looked gorgeous, and it really was all too easy to picture him as he would be in his own body. Dream knelt down, taking another kiss, drinking in the soft, vulnerable whimpers and riding that thrill when he felt Nightmare's tongue move with his, kissing him back (even if he didn't realize it).

Dream pulled away, licking his teeth. The paint would be wearing off soon, and so would the body switching program. He wandered over to his clothes (Dream's clothes), and carefully felt through it for the vial of paint that Ink had given him. It was a neon purple, shimmering and bright and smelling of arousal so strong it made his bones ache. He grinned, then popped the cork and drank it all down in one go.

Putting the vial aside to return to Ink later, Dream sat down and let his hands wander idly. He had a little time to explore while he waited for his own body to recover, while he waited for the switch to happen again.

He was _excited_ to see Nightmare be this cute in his own proverbial skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, i hc dream and nightmare as tree spirits imbued with the elements of the duality of positivity and negativity. they are both extremes. so they are both, in very similar ways, horrible people. they are more alike than they would ever admit to each other. nightmare is just more shameless in his awfulness
> 
> yes nightmare has a praise kink and he hates it.
> 
> the sequel is now up: [Day 14: Brotherly Love 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50007911)


	9. Day 8: Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Blood/Gore | Prostitution/Sex Work | Fisting | Hate-fucking/Angry Sex  
**Kinks:** Blood/Gore | Fisting | Hate-fucking/Angry Sex | Shotgunning (Fisting Technique) | D/s | Sounding  
**Pairing:** Horrortale!Sans / Underswap!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; referenced/implied past blood/gore; PTSD
> 
> Axe wakes up and shit hits the fan  
Or, Blue hits the fan, and by fan we mean Axe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.8k of me dabbling in a resonance-style ship that i've only ever shitposted to friends about before

Screaming. The world was red, and black, and screaming, and hunger. Axe could feel the warm, slick, bony limb in his hand, hear the way the snow displaced as he dragged his unwilling prey into his shed. The metallic aroma that seemed to be the signature of spilled blood was only stronger inside.

He wasn't gentle. He wasn't careful. He was well aware of that. But trying to be gentle or careful never did anyone any favors down here. Sometimes it meant people went hungry. Axe chose to go hungry, given the alternative, but he wanted his family, his friends, to at least have that choice. And that meant finding food, any food.

And he had 'any food' in his iron grip right at that moment, when the world was red and black and screaming and hunger.

"sorry," he said, and a part of him (the shredded remains of what he used to be, the scraps of him, left to starve and die) even meant it. He never wanted to hurt anyone.

But he couldn't afford not to care anymore, now could he?

He brought up his cleaver, and swung, and he felt the knife meet meat and-

And he woke up, drenched in sweat and drooling the darkness that never seemed to leave, and the world was red and black and _hunger_. He was shaking, he noticed distantly. He reached up to curl his phalanges in his socket, tugging as if it would tug free the awful experience of that far-too-vivid memory trying to overlay into his present.

Or _was it his present anyway? Was he still down there? Was it all a dream?? Was he-_

"hey, axe??" Came a voice, and Axe felt more than commanded his other hand to move, to bring out his cleaver and slash it in the general direction of that voice-

Only for him to feel it caught, his wrist, in an iron grip too much like his own, and yet so different.

"WHAT DID I SAY?" 

Axe finally shook off the lingering afterimages, and focused on the now. In front of him, frozen and drenched in sudden fear sweat, was a thoroughly shaken Stretch, grin tight and too-small eyelights focused on the jagged blade that was mere millimeters from his fragile neck. Axe let his gaze trail down the blade, to his wrist, where a bright blue gloved hand was holding it.

"uh..."

"WHAT. DID. I. SAY?" Blue reiterated, his grip tightening even as his grin sat sweetly on his face.

Axe felt a shiver run down his spine. _Oh._ He looked to Stretch, and dropped his cleaver, letting it clatter to the floor. "heh. sorry, buddy. didn't mean ta get _sharp_ with ya."

Stretch laughed nervously. "good one."

Blue pulled Axe's arm back. "WHY DON'T WE HAVE A LITTLE CHAT?" He suggested with the force of a coming storm, before all but dragging Axe off the couch and up to Blue's bedroom.

Once the door was closed behind him, Blue let some of his facade slacken, and he pounced, trying to pin Axe to the bed.

Axe knew this 'game'. He knew the rules. If he was honestly not in the mood, he was supposed to say the safeword. The safeword was 'diet', coincidentally. He hated that word, so it was a good one for this purpose.

Instead, though, Axe spun, trying to use what he thought would be his superior upper body strength to wrestle Blue into submission. Blue struck him in the jaw with the heel of his palm, making Axe see stars. Axe retaliated with a punch to the ribs, trying to knock the breath and concentration from Blue. Blue let out an outraged snarl, backhanding Axe and knocking him off balance with a leg sweep, sending him down to the bed.

Before Axe could get up, Blue had him pinned on all fours, face down, by the throat. "I WARNED YOU. IF YOU WERE GOING TO TRY AND PLAY ROUGHLY WITH ANYONE, IT WAS GOING TO BE WITH _ME_."

Axe panted, tasting blood in his mouth. He tried to buck Blue off, but the Blue only squeezed until Axe's vision blackened at the edges and he went limp.

Blue then ripped Axe's shorts down, huffing out a tired pant. "DISOBEDIENT BRAT. YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO SWING THOSE THINGS IN THE HOUSE. YOU KNOW IT IRRITATES ME." He gripped Axe's coccyx, scratching it roughly with the blunted tips of his gloved hands.

Axe seized up, trying to struggle more, only to stiffen when he was spanked on the back of his femurs.

"HURRY UP. GIVE ME SOMETHING OR I WILL HAVE TO IMPROVISE," Blue demanded. "WHICH IS FINE. I'VE NEVER USED AN EYE SOCKET BEFORE."

Axe let his ass and dick snap into place, thrashing and panting. He was starting to lose momentum but he wasn't done yet.

Blue spanked Axe, a hard, quick strike. Then Axe felt first one finger, then two, then three, shoved up inside him. Axe squirmed, gasping as he was stretched. There were more than a few fingers now. "what are you doing, trying to shove your whole hand in th-" Axe cut off with a yelp as something was shoved in, thick and blunt and _big_.

"FIST, TO BE PRECISE," Blue corrected. "AND YOU DESERVE IT." Blue began to punch roughly at Axe's insides, panting with the force he put behind it.

Axe gasped with each strike, squirming on Blue's arm. Part of it _hurt_, too much, too much stretch, too much fullness all at once. Another part was heating up, as a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves was ruthlessly pounded, curling his toes and making the situation increasingly more urgent.

"YOU LIKE IT ROUGH," Blue reminded him, giving him another punch with each word. "YOU THINK ITS FUNNY. YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES."

Axe clawed at the sheets under him, starting to get dizzy from constricted air flow, overstimulation, and the building heat.

"DO NOT WORRY. I WILL PLAY ROUGH WITH YOU. IS THIS ROUGH ENOUGH??" Blue asked, voice still sweet and sugary and innocent despite the spite in his words and the anger in his fist.

Axe was starting to tear up, panting.

"OH? YOU REALLY DO LIKE IT ROUGH, DON'T YOU? LOOK, YOU'RE MAKING A MESS OF MY BED. WILL YOUR BAD MANNERS NEVER CEASE?" Blue let go of Axe's neck to grip onto his weeping member, squeezing it just as tightly. Axe screamed and whined, thrusting his hips uselessly trying to shake Blue off.

Except at that point, he was on Blue, swallowing his arm halfway to the elbow.

Blue squeezed and pumped at Axe's member in time with his punching. Every time Axe got close to orgasm, he squeezed the _ever loving shit_ out of him, stopping it short and making it that much more unbearable with every repetition.

"fuck- c'mon, c'mon-" Axe snarled, shaking as he was squeezed and pulled again.

"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE."

"you don't care, you cuss all the time!"

"THAT'S NOT RELEVANT TO YOUR BEHAVIOR." Blue pointed out, pushing his fist in just a little bit deeper, turning it this way and that before resuming the punching.

Axe seized up, his soul dropping somewhere unmentionable as he realized he'd had the driest, most unsatisfying orgasm forced out of him.

"SAY YOU'RE SORRY, BRAT."

Axe bit into Blue's pillow, sobbing quietly but refusing. At this point it was a matter of pride.

Blue resumed his shotgun technique. "I CAN DO THIS ALL DAY, AXE. I AM VERY DEDICATED."

Axe knew that very well, growling low in his throat until the pressure stretched it into another whine.

Blue pulled his arm out all the way, then pushed it back in again. "I SAID APOLOGIZE." His voice was still calm and cheerful, almost reaching the same sickly sweetness of another friend of theirs.

Axe nearly came again. He thrashed around. "f-fine! fine i'm sorry! i'm sorry!"

The concession did not even make Blue slow down, still punching at that sweet spot to drive Axe insane. "WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR?"

Axe racked his brain for the answer. He honestly couldn't recall anymore. He did a lot of things to get on Blue's nerves (some on purpose, some on accident). "uh i-" A moan interrupted his attempts. "i-i stained your sheets..?"

"WELL, YOU DID DO THAT, BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT." Another achingly glorious drag against his inner wall, followed by a harsh thrust. "WHAT DID YOU DO THIS MORNING?"

"i-" Axe tried to think, but it was making his head hurt. He just couldn't recall-

Another squeeze, and then Axe felt Blue slow down, letting go of his dick entirely. Axe looked over his shoulder just in time to see Blue lick his glove, tasting the red liquid that had gathered on it. The hum that came out of him settled heavy in Axe's chest and pelvis. Then Blue used his teeth to pull the glove off, and brought his now bare hand back down to slide one of his phalanges around the tip of Axe's dick. "I WON'T ASK AGAIN."

"i- i put my feet on the coffee table again?"

Blue tutted, then shoved that slender phalanx into Axe's dick through his urethra analogue. Axe arched his back, teeth parted in a silent scream and head filled with nothing but white noise and the need to come.

Blue once again began to punch the pleasure into Axe, this time pumping his finger in and out of Axe's dick. "I AM WAITING."

Axe tried to think, but he couldn't recall. _He couldn't-_ "i-" The pleasure filled his skull like cotton. "i- i attacked stretch. i swung at stretch."

Blue slowed down. "THATS RIGHT. NOW. ARE YOU SORRY?"

"yes- yes i'm sorry..!"

"WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR?"

"'m sorry i swung at stretch!"

Axe could hear the smirk on Blue's face. "THATS BETTER."

Then Blue pulled his finger and fist out at the same time.

Axe arched his back, and _came_. His head reeled, hips twitching as he emptied himself. He clawed at the bed for a few moments, struggling, before he felt himself fall into darkness.

* * *

Blue shook his hands a little, pleased with the sheer level of liquid arousal drenching them. He leaned over Axe, purring at the fruit of his hard work: Axe was drenched in pretty pink and blue sweat, face tear-stained cutely.

_'If only he wasn't such a volatile thing,'_ Blue thought to himself with a sigh. He leaned in to give Axe a gentle scratch under the jaw. The way Axe immediately purred and nuzzled his hand had Blue melting. Axe made him so angry, but Blue knew it wasn't (usually) on purpose. And he was so cute...

Blue got to work cleaning them both up, easing the messy comforter out from under Axe and then tossing a blanket over him. Blue then snuggled up with him, tucking Axe's head under his chin and curling protectively. Bad dreams were a serious problem, so he would stand guard, just this once, to chase them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blue usually holds a grudge (like with red) but... theres also something else here. like, i think this is blackrom guys (at least on Blue's end).


	10. Day 9: Gift for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Titfucking | Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles) | Bondage | Lingerie  
**Kinks:** Titfucking | Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles) | Bondage | Lingerie | Cross-Dressing  
**Pairing:** Underfell!Papyrus / Outertale!Papyrus  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; body dysphoria; subdrop; possessiveness; manipulation
> 
> Edge and Outer have something that might be called sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.3k of me playing with a dangerous ship

Edge flopped into another position on the couch, exchanging one reclining pose for another. He was still trying to figure out where in this second apartment (one he had gotten to better accommodate his datemate, closer to his therapy centers and lower to avoid the use of stairs and elevators) he liked to relax best, and how. He must have moved the furniture half a dozen times, and still something seemed off, unsecured.

He just could not pick out what.

Edge decided he'd probably have to move the furniture again. He set his book down, going to get to it, when he heard the locks being undone at the door. Edge tensed, taking a stance, and waited, only to sigh in relief when it was merely Orbit coming back.

Orbit smiled at him, and something in Edge's soul uncoiled.

Orbit had a bag in one hand, paper and colorful but unmarked by any brand or logo. Edge eyed it curiously, apprehension swelling from seemingly nowhere. "WELCOME HOME. WHAT IS THAT?"

Orbit closed and locked the door quietly (as he did most things), before making his way to Edge delicately and sitting in his lap. Edge curled his arms around his pet, idly checking for any new injuries or weakness (as Orbit often seemed to become hurt when he was out and about). Edge found nothing amiss (_thank fucking stars for small miracles_), so he turned his full attention to his pet's hands and the bag that had come with them.

[I WENT AND GOT YOU A GIFT!] Orbit signed, gesturing to the bag now set to the side. [ITS SOMETHING I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD WEAR FOR ME? TONIGHT?]

"WEAR?" Edge repeated out loud.

[YES!!] Orbit scratched his cheek. [YOU REMEMBER HOW THE THERAPIST SUGGESTED I START... PADDING MYSELF OUT? WELL I THOUGHT MAYBE WE COULD DO THAT. TOGETHER. AND MAYBE DO A LITTLE ACTIVITY?]

Edge considered this. "YOU WANT ME TO HELP YOUR TRAINING?"

[THAT IS A NICE WAY TO PUT IT YES!! AND THIS IS THE PERFECT TRAINING GEAR!]

Edge nuzzled his datemate's shoulder. Orbit was noticeably taller than him, despite being half his weight. But sitting down, they were a little more even. "IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WANT." Edge would do anything to help his pet.

Orbit clapped quietly, turning to press his forehead to Edge's. Edge smirked, letting his hands smooth over Orbit's structure, concealed by his soft sweater and khaki pants. He let his eyes drift shut, relaxing with his datemate safe in hand.

Orbit had to tap his shoulder to get his attention. [CAN YOU PUT IT ON NOW?]

Edge chuckled. "IF YOU LIKE." He gently picked Orbit up and then set him back down on the couch. Then he took the bag in hand and went to the bedroom to change. He opened the bag and pulled out the surprise inside.

And what a surprise it was.

The packaging called it a "baroque cage teddy" and if Edge were honest, the name raised more questions than answers. It looked nothing like a bear, and did not remind him of any kind of art or architecture. It did, however, live up to its 'cage' description, being a series of leather strips arranged in some sort of web or cage pattern. Edge had trouble trying to figure out just what he was supposed to do with it, since the packaging did not come with any pictures. He had to discreetly look it up online with his phone. The pictures were informative.

However, in order to wear it properly, Edge was going to have to fill out his anatomy rather specifically. _This was what Orbit meant when he mentioned the therapy training._ Edge felt his face warm in embarrassment as he stripped down to his bones, and filled himself out as necessary. He took a moment to feel his own body, the shimmering, bioluminescent crimson ecto that was shaped into various curves, his middle toned and thighs thick and chest bouncy. His quick exploration found his butt to be a bit fuller than he would have liked, and he wondered if that was something he was comfortable showing Orbit. This particular physique was embarrassing at best and humiliating on average. He was too thick, too soft, too squishy.

But Orbit wanted his help, and by help he meant solidarity. If this was what his pet needed to help him get better, then Edge would bite the proverbial bullet.

It took a bit of finagling, but Edge managed to get into the overly complicated and revealing ensemble. The black leather stood out against his bones and flesh alike, separating his breasts and drawing the eye down to the vulnerable place between his legs. Edge looked at himself in the mirror and wondered at the lengths he would go to for his pet. He thought he looked ridiculous, extra in the worst way.

Orbit would probably take one look at him and call the whole thing off, which was likely for the best. Or at least ask Edge to put on a robe.

Edge decided to save his pet a step, and dug out one of the soft silk robes he had become partial to. The one he had on hand in this apartment happened to also be in black, covered in tasteful embroidery set in spiral patterns. He slipped it on, shivering at how the texture felt against his ecto (which he was realizing quickly was unusually sensitive to touch). Even with the robe on, he could still feel the cage teddy clinging to him, pressing at the creases of his joints and ass whenever he moved.

He supposed he had kept his pet waiting long enough. Taking a deep breath, Edge went back out. He would do what he had to for his pet.

* * *

Orbit toyed with the end of his scarf, smiling hard enough to feel it on his face. He was _incredibly excited_ with what he had planned for tonight. He had gotten and hidden all the other supplies in the bedroom last week. It had just taken him longer to have the perfect outfit shipped in, special order.

He was going to have such fun.

Orbit practically leaped from the couch when he heard the door open. Edge came out, face an unfamiliar pink that Orbit instantly liked. He was wrapped in a robe (a silken black number that offset his stained bones and made them look even paler) which hid most of the body beneath, but Orbit could see his silhouette was more filled out, and his chest had more contour than usual.

[HOW DOES IT FIT? ARE YOU COMFORTABLE IN IT?] Orbit hoped so. Comfort meant he would be more willing to wear it for him.

"YES, IT FITS. AND IT IS NOT UNCOMFORTABLE PER SE," Edge admitted, the inflection implying that there was still something about the fit and feel that was making him uncertain.

Orbit furrowed his brows. [BUT..?] He came over, looking Edge up and down and just imagining what that robe was hiding from him. As he got closer, he could see the faint glow of crimson through the fabric, but not quite enough to make out any detail.

"IT IS LESS THAN FLATTERING. AND IT FEELS STRANGE TO HAVE THIS BODY OUT AND ABOUT."

[STRANGE IN A BAD WAY?]

"NOT BAD. BUT FUCKING WEIRD."

Orbit couldn't stop grinning. [WELL, I WILL BE LOOKING EQUALLY WEIRD, I THINK. SHALL WE?] He gestured to the bedroom.

"YOU WANT TO TRAIN IN THERE?" Edge looked over his shoulder into the much darker room, then back to Orbit.

[INDEED! IT WILL BE MORE COMFORTABLE.]

Edge still didn't look certain, but he went in anyway and sat down on the bed.

Orbit followed him, closing the door with a click of finality, shivering at that adrenaline rush of finally having his favorite person exactly where he wanted him, his trap finally catching him. He stood facing the door for a moment, letting his triumphant grin enjoy a peaceful moment on his face before turning it to something more soothing and comforting to give to Edge.

The lighting was dim, but enough to get all of his boyfriend in lovely focus. Sitting down, the contours of Edge's hips were significantly more noticeable. Orbit repressed a purr, instead carefully unwinding his most favorite scarf and folding it to sit by Edge's more worn one on the side table. He then shrugged out of his sweater, and his own pants, hanging them neatly on a chair.

Finally, Orbit took a deep breath and did as he had been taught, carefully concentrating his magic and finding what little excess he had to accumulate into padding for his body. He didn't have near enough yet, but he had just enough for what he needed: the whole of his midriff and his pelvis. Orbit felt drained from even that much, and quickly needed to sit down, panting uselessly.

Edge got up, hovering over Orbit. Orbit felt the cold, soothing brush of Edge's knuckles across his cheek, how Edge's other hand settled around his throat. "I SEE WHAT YOU MEAN. OKAY. STAY RIGHT HERE. I WILL GO GET YOU AN ENERGY DRINK. JUST RELAX A MOMENT. I DO NOT WANT YOU FALLING OVER."

Orbit would have gripped his arm to hold him there, but he just didn't have the strength for it. Edge zipped out of the room, the hem of his robe swishing around his ankles, giving Orbit a teasing glance at what was most certainly a lovely bit of calf.

The cerebral delight of that crawled through every bone in Orbit's body. _If Edge had a calf summoned, and hips, and a chest... he had almost his entire body padded. He was moving around like that, like using that much energy was absolutely nothing to him._ The sheer display of casual power had Orbit's own magic heating up to a boil.

Edge came back, a chocolate smoothie that was no doubt mixed with energy drink powder in hand. He'd brought it complete with a blue curly straw, for easy consumption. Edge sat next to Orbit, holding it out for him with both hands.

Orbit leaned into Edge's side, and leaned forward to suck on the end of the straw. It gave him an excuse to initiate contact and test his theory. _The entire side of Edge was soft and padded._

Edge stiffened a little at the contact, his face taking on a bit more color. Orbit didn't let the fact he noticed show on his face, pretending to focus entirely on his drink while he curled his arm around Edge's now soft waist. He alighted his hand on Edge's hip, and kneaded, squeezed, tested the elasticity. It was _so fucking soft_, healthy and full of energy, which meant full of power.

Edge sucked in a breath, his hands starting to shake a little. Orbit grinned at him, continuing his exploration up and down the side of his datemate. Everywhere he felt, he could also feel the subtlest quiver of Edge's magic through the fabric of his robe. By the time Orbit was halfway down with his drink, Edge's legs were shaking, and pressing themselves together, his gaze a bit glassy and absent of its usual sharpness.

_All this power, and Orbit had it eating out of his hand._

Once Orbit had drunk down all of the energy shake (and no longer thought he was going to pass out), he sat up straighter and pulled his own hand away to sign. [THANK YOU!! NOW THAT I AM FEELING BETTER. BACK TO TRAINING.]

"ARE YOU SURE? I DO NOT WANT YOU OVER EXERTING YOURSELF," Edge pointed out with concern, getting up to set the now empty cup on the side table. Orbit delighted in the shreds of breathlessness on the edges of his voice.

[I AM VERY SURE. BUT YOU HAVE SUCH A CLEAR ADVANTAGE OVER ME!! WOULD YOU MIND TERRIBLY IF WE GAVE YOU A HANDICAP??]

Edge puffed up with well deserved pride. "NOT AT ALL!!"

[EXCELLENT!! SO LETS GET THAT ROBE OFF AND I'LL GET THE HANDICAP!!] Orbit stood up, slow and careful and opened up the closet. He pulled out the box he'd hidden there, and from it, pulled out a metal ring from which four padded cuffs hung on chains. When he turned around, Edge was sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching the robe tight.

Orbit gave him a questioning look.

"I AM STILL NOT SURE YOU WILL LIKE WHAT YOU SEE."

Orbit sighed, setting the cuffs on the bed beside Edge, and got in his lap. Edge had to let go of himself to hold Orbit instead. Orbit felt how Edge stiffened against him, holding his breath. He smirked, stealing a kiss, slow and tender, the kind that he knew drove Edge to distraction. While Orbit had him occupied, he untied the sash and tossed it over his shoulder, sliding his hand inside to feel what was being hidden from him.

Edge made a soft noise against his teeth, and Orbit felt him shaking in his hand. The false flesh was smooth and flawless and filled to the brim with power. He grinned, pulling back to sign: [I WILL LIKE VERY MUCH WHAT I SEE. BECAUSE WHAT I SEE WILL BE YOU. AND I LIKE YOU.]

Edge blinked away his daze, and that pink on his face deepened to an adorable red. "V-VERY WELL. IF YOU INSIST."

Orbit purred. It was so easy to get what he wanted out of Edge. It was just like mind control, but used up so much less power. How lucky he was, to have such a conveniently giving thing to love.

Edge scooted back on the bed, and Orbit made him pause with a gentle hand to his wrist. He then grabbed the cuffs again and wiggled them. "OH. YES. THATS RIGHT. I NEARLY FORGOT." Edge shifted his position, until he was on his knees. "I DO NOT THINK I CAN PUT THAT ON MYSELF. AT LEAST NOT ALL FOUR CUFFS. CAN YOU..?"

Orbit nodded, pressing his forehead to Edge's in a soothing gesture he knew would keep Edge calm for a few moments. He got behind Edge, and quickly got the cuffs in place, securing Edge's ankles and wrists together behind and under him. Orbit crawled back in front of Edge, and, using another distracting kiss, gently guided him to lay back.

How funny, that the easiest way to get compliance now was to be gentle about it?

Orbit pulled away, looking down at his favorite thing. Edge was like a doll, all that strength posed and positioned to Orbit's pleasure. The robe was still closed, but with Edge right where he wanted him, Orbit could open him up like a present.

It was everything that Orbit imagined it would be: Edge's summoned feminine body was equal parts soft and muscle, the body of an amazon, sculpted to perfection. The scars on Edge's bones were mirrored in his skin, leaving lovely artistic changes in hue all over, star shapes and criss-cross patterns that could have been an artistic representation of the night sky. That body was covered in sweat, and the skin quivered as goosebumps swelled over its surface. The cage teddy was the perfect thing to accessorize it, strips of black to contrast the brightness it contained, without barring him from exploring.

[I THINK YOU WERE WORRIED FOR NOTHING.] Orbit took the time to reassure his precious thing. [YOU ARE BREATHTAKING.]

Edge flushed brighter.

Orbit leaned in, nibbling at his neck as his hands explored. First he settled on his chest. He squeezed, thumbing at the pert, stiff nipples that hardened under his touch. Edge gasped, and started to squirm. Orbit pinched gently, lingering before letting one hand trail down. He rubbed gently at Edge's stomach, purring at the feel of those manifested muscles flexing under his hand.

Edge's face was a sight to see as well: teeth clenched, the prettiest pink, struggling to keep his own sockets open. Orbit maintained eye contact as his hand wandered lower, and slid between his datemate's legs.

Edge was _drenched_, quivering, and hot. Orbit slid two fingers in, delighting in the noise Edge made. He pumped into him, thumbing at Edge's clit in slow circles (thankful he had done research ahead of time). Edge's sockets fluttered shut, body arching to press back into Orbit, giving him the control. _Orbit reveled in it,_ continuing his studious attention until he could feel the telltale twitches of an orgasm building, at which point he pulled his hand away.

Edge whined and growled with frustrated ire. Orbit kissed him, grinding his achingly hard cock into Edge's stomach as he did.

When Orbit pulled away, Edge gasped or air. His voice was low, soft, breathless as he said, "Y-YOU'RE RATHER PROFICIENT WITH THIS, AREN'T YOU?"

Orbit grinned, nodding as he enjoyed the improved sight under him. Now Edge was a wreck, drooling from the corner of his mouth and sockets glistening with tears he was just barely able to keep from falling. Orbit reached up and wiped them away, and leaned in for another kiss. Edge quaked under him, straining against the cuffs. _Orbit was loving every second of it._ He shimmied up Edge's perfect body, settling his dick between Edge's breasts. He gripped them, pressing them in to envelope his length and started to thrust in earnest, breathing harder.

"C-CAREFUL-!!" Edge panted. "DO NOT OV-VERWORK YOURS-SE- _FUCK!!_" Edge threw his head back with a curse, writhing. It was amazing to see, Edge responding so deliciously no matter where Orbit touched, his body oversensitive and raw and delightful.

Orbit sped up his thrusts, refusing to blink and miss and instant of it, of this powerful, unstoppable creature being _his_ and ruined and wrecked because of him.

Orbit came, shuddering with it. For a brief moment, it was bliss, it was nirvana, it was pleasure to its most visceral degree-!!

And then Orbit's magic gave out on him, his constructs dispelling and his body falling heavy to one side. He expected to hit the bed, or even crash to the floor, his head swimming and vision black.

Orbit heard a loud crack, the rattle of metal, and then strong, shaking arms were around him, pulling him in close. "I TRIED TO WARN YOU." Edge chastised, shifting his position with a soft groan.

Orbit blinked his vision back until he was looking up at Edge. He was limp in is boyfriends arms, dizzy and sore. Edge grinned, brushing sweat off of Orbit's brow with a gentle claw.

Orbit felt the cold brush of the end of the chain, still dangling from the cuff attached to Edge's wrist, and fell in love all over again. He snuggled in closer, letting his consciousness fade, knowing his unstoppable monolith of a lover would take care of him.

* * *

Edge sighed, laying back. He was still sore and shaking, a part of him shutting down as he realized what exactly it was he had just done. He couldn't believe he let his datemate almost get hurt, all because he had been distracted and weak. Edge hugged Orbit closer, shaking so hard his bones rattled, and fought back the anger and the burning in his skull, pressing up from the space behind his sockets.

A few tears escaped, to his shame. Edge sat there, numb save for the burning and the dampness making him sticky, until he could shake out of it and make himself move. He had to clean up and get them both a bath.

Then have a drink or two.

Or three.

And maybe, just maybe, he might be able to sleep. For once, he might welcome it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orbit has no idea about subdrop and Edge isn't telling him shit because it isn't hurting anyone but Edge
> 
> huh. i wonder who that sounds like


	11. Day 10: A Little Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Hair-pulling | Waxplay | Micro/Macro | Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)  
**Kinks:** Micro/Macro | Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic) | D/s | Sacrum Lacing | Licking  
**Pairing:** Rust (Underfell!Sans/ Underlust!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity
> 
> Someone has a little accident, and someone (I'm not going to name any names, but Lust) is very excited about it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.8k of me trying to dip my toes back into resonance!rust and failing spectacularly XD  
this is actual garbage XD

Lust sauntered into Dance's house, wondering why he'd asked him to come by.

"th' fuk ya mean it's gonna take a fuk'n week?!?!" Lust heard his sweetheart snarling from the other room. Lust leaned in the doorway, taking in the scene: Dance stood over a pile of Red's clothes, which were in a messy heap on the floor, looking down at it with his usual unimpressed resting-bitch-face of a smirk.

"i mean the effects will likely wear off in a week or so, and i don't have enough data to make it go any faster." Dance huffed dismissively.

"th fuk'm i s'pose t' do like this?!?!" Red's outraged hisses came again (although Lust couldn't see him).

"you and lust can figure that out together," Dance dismissed his concerns.

Red's groan of frustration drew Lust's attention to the pile of clothes. He noticed the vaguest movement as he approached. "figure what out?" he asked.

Dance turned to face Lust. "had an experiment go wrong. whiny mc asshole is in the way now so take him."

Lust looked down. There, swamped in his own clothes, was a tiny, _tiny,_ pocket sized Red, clinging to his sweater for modesty he didn't actually have. Lust shivered, a soft purr rumbling in his chest. _So. Fucking. Cute._

Red growled at him. "ya c'n stop thinkin' wut yer fuk'n thinkin' right fuk'n now, slut!"

Lust pulled Red's leather coat on, tucking the shorts and socks and shoes into his inventory before scooping Red up, along with his oversized sweater and collar. "i got him, sweetie. a week right?" Lust thumbed at Red's cheek, shivering in delight at all the fun things they could do in a week. "i'll take good care of him~"

"dance, ya asshole, don't you fuckin' dare leave me alone with him-" Red snarled.

"bye." Dance waved them off, starting to pick up the pieces of a machine that looked like it had blown up.

Lust shortcut himself and his mate back to his room, purring as he settled on the bed and began the slow, careful process of untangling Red from his sweater.

"leggo! get off!" Red squirmed in Lust's hold, biting his fingers. "i know wut yer thinkin' 'n there ain’t no fuk'n way it's gonna work!!"

Lust smiled, his soul fluttering. _Red was so cute when he got angry and flustered. He loved him so much._ Red's face went a pretty shade of pink, which only made Lust want to tease him more. "oh, sweetheart~ don't you worry about a thing~ i know just~ what to do with someone your size~!"

"that's th' fuk'n problem!" Red snapped back.

Lust finally got Red free of his sweater, setting the knitted treasure aside, and the collar on top of it. Red quivered in his hands, naked and vulnerable. Lust smiled reassuringly down at him, again thumbing at his cheek and teeth. He knew the angry routine wasn't actual anger. Red's true anger, anger for its own sake, presented itself differently than this anger. This was apprehension, this was fear.

Lust would kiss those fears away all week long, starting right now.

Red struggled in his grip, thrashing and kicking and snarling as he clawed at Lust's steady fingers. "bitch, i said leggo!"

"i heard you, baby," Lust assured him, pulling Red's tiny body up closer so he could lav his tongue over Red's now bare neck. As Lust expected, Red seized up, his eyelights turning to two white pinpricks, quivering and fuzzy. Lust knew after wearing a collar so long, one's neck became somewhat sensitive.

He also knew Red's safeword was not 'leggo'.

Lust curled a few fingers around Red's spine, stroking it slow, languid and loving, just the way he knew would drive Red crazy. "it's gonna be okay sweetheart. i've got you, and i'll keep you warm until this blows over."

Red's fighting gradually dwindled. Lust trilled in approval, using his tongue more liberally. He learned quickly that Red responded better to offers of warmth than safety or help. He accepted it better too. Lust nuzzled, laying back on the bed so he could relax while he enjoyed the new dimensions of his mate.

Red couldn't be more than 4 inches tall, and the thickness of his bones had shrunk in direct proportion, but he was otherwise exactly the same. Lust marveled at all the little, nostalgic details of him, licking at the nubby ends of his broken ribs, stroking his spine. Lust couldn't quite help himself: he adored everything about Red, and now he got to appreciate him in miniature!

Red's fear-induced irritability was gradually pushed aside. Lust sometimes forgot how Red could feel his feelings, a side effect of the gift snug around Lust's neck. It was most obvious at times like this, when Red was relaxed and flushed and quiet, letting Lust adore him as he deserved. Red was an utter softy deep (_deep, deep, deep, deep, DEEP, deep down_), crumbling into putty every time Lust was reminded of his fanatical devotion (his adoration, his love) to his mate. Lust held him close, continuing the calm, slow petting and lingering on all those blissful thoughts of love, until he started to see the pretty sparks of pink and scarlet coming from Red's joints and scars.

"ok, baby," Lust cooed. "i wanna play a little game. it's gonna feel real good for you. trust me?"

Red slow blinked up at Lust. His eyelights were the relaxed, easy white that Lust just _loved_ to see on Red. Red must have picked up on those thoughts, because his face went pink again. "...whatev'r," Red mumbled, closing his sockets and hiding his face. "long as i don't gotta do nothin'..."

"don't worry, baby. i'll be doing all~ the work~" Lust assured, squealing internally at how _fucking cute_ his boyfriend was. He made soothing little circles into Red's back, making sure he was comfortable and relaxed, before getting up to prepare the tools he would need. Lust kept one hand on Red the entire time, cuddling him and letting him sleep off the shock of his sudden change, purring to continually remind him that he was safe and treasured.

Meanwhile, Lust's other hand gathered what he needed: an electric tooth brush, some soap, and soft, waxy dental floss.

Lust settled into their luxurious bathtub, lounging with Red still held against his chest. Red had started a deeper sleep cycle, and Lust was loathed to wake him. Instead, Lust decided to try to do the prep work while Red was asleep, licking at Red's tender, exposed coccyx and the end of the dental floss, then carefully threading the first hole. Lust moved slowly, cautiously, doing his best not to disturb his sweetheart. He watched in delight as Red's joints and scars lit up again, shifting almost immediately to the pretty green and gold that Lust adored coaxing out of him. Better still, Red moaned, low and sweet and _intoxicating_, when Lust threaded the second hole, his claws scrabbling weakly for purchase in his sleep, face flushed in a lovely gradient of pinks and greens and golds. He was drenched in sweat, glistening, and with the third and fourth holes threaded, he made sweeter and sweeter little sighs.

Hole number five was what woke him up, back arching and sockets fluttering in confusion. "th fuk-??"

"have a nice nap, sweetheart?" Lust inquired, trembling with his own arousal: _Red was just so cute when he just woke up!_ Lust brought him closer for a kiss, licking up his spine.

Red gasped, squirming. "th' fuck didja do??"

"just giving you a nice, thorough bath, baby," Lust assured. "needed a little help getting those little places~" Lust tugged on the floss, watching with rapturous attention as his love writhed in his hand. Lust watched as magic sparked and settled in Red's pelvic inlet, unable to take a proper shape thanks to the floss. "you deserve a nice, relaxing bath after the day you've had, sweetheart. you just lay back and let me take care of you~"

Red clutched at Lust's hand, whimpering as he fought the sudden dip into subspace, before sliding down and purring. Lust groaned, feeling the sight of him like this go right to his dick. "that’s~ it, baby, relax~ gonna get ya all~ clean~" Lust finished with the sacrum lacing, tugging it back and forth and enjoying how Red mewled in pleasure before tying it off. _So cute. So irresistible._ Lust didn't know how nobody else was as weak for Red as he was.

Lust didn't know how he survived without him.

Licking at the magic in Red's pelvis, Lust purred, reaching down with his free hand to stroke himself. Nothing was as pleasurable now unless Red was involved. The taste of him, the smell, the sounds he made, how perfectly he felt against Lust's body: just holding Red close, like this, cradling him in his palm and nuzzling him, was more than enough to wring out a satisfying orgasm (combined with a little masturbation, of course, which by itself never quite did it for him anymore).

Lust supposed he was lucky nobody else was interested in Red; he wondered if he would be so willing to share. He knew that that was hypocritical, given his lifestyle (and he hoped he would be more open and charitable in practice). He sat a moment, enjoying the afterglow as he pet his love.

Then, he picked up the tooth brush, applying soap to the end as he rested Red on his shoulder, nuzzling him. until he could once again hold him in hand. "ok baby, ready for your bath~?"

Red drawled out a sleepy affirmative noise, nuzzling his head against Lust's finger. Lust fought down the urge to squeal out loud, squirming in the bath water. Reassured, Lust brought the toothbrush up, sliding it carefully into Red's ribcage. He turned it on, and began the gentle process of cleaning every miniature inch of Red with it, slow and gentle and loving. The vibrations, the kiss of the bristles, the slide of the soap, all combined to have Red a useless, drooling, whimpering mess.

Lust got the inside of Red's ribs first, careful of the broken ones. Next, he got the outside, sliding along his collarbone (_too small to bite now, but still so strong and handsome_) and down his sternum (_scratched and shimmering and perfect for kissing_). Then Lust worked down, following Red's spine (_elegantly curved, begging to be stroked and loved on,_ perfectly aligned now thanks to Lust's careful attention because _he was never letting his baby walk around in unnecessary pain again_), and then over his iliac crests (_the boniest love handles_), over his pubic symphysis...

Red seized up, a burst of magic emanating from his ribs, silver and green and gold light dripping in liquid form.

Lust purred, dipping Red into the water up to his neck, gently rinsing him off with his hand and a soft washcloth. "oh, baby~ now look at you~" _Delicious, wonderful, his._ "now we gotta get ya clean all over again~"

Not that Lust minded. He had a whole week to love his sweetheart. And he was going to use every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other words, this is why you don't give Resonance!Lust bitties. they will be loved on to utter ruin


	12. Day 11: Public Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Object Insertion | Sounding | Cross-dressing | Tribadism/Scissoring  
**Kinks:** Sounding | Cross-dressing | Public Play | Orgasm Denial | D/s  
**Pairing:** CherryBerry (Underfell!Sans/ Underswap!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity
> 
> Red tries something new for Blue, and he isn't entirely put off by it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.3k of a kinktober original ship dynamic

Blue paced excitedly outside the bedroom door, feeling the heat of his own eyelights as they danced and spun in starry patterns. "DOES IT FIT??" He called in, barely able to contain his anticipatory glee.

"i'm workin' on it," Red called out, the softest abnormality to his voice. "ain't easy movin' 'round like this, babe."

"I KNOW! BUT I BELIEVE IN YOU!!"

Red didn't respond, but the silence wasn't a bad sign. Blue waited (not quite but almost) patiently until the door squeaked open and out came Red, slow and careful in his new platform-heel go-go boots, adding a full inch to his height. His legs trembled, as Blue's gaze traveled from his feet up to Red's thighs and hips, where the shiny black disco miniskirt flared and swayed. Above it, a soft shoulder-less sweater completed the outfit. Blue took in the whole of him, marveling at how Red just looked good, no matter what Blue asked him to wear (or not wear). Then Blue's gaze gravitated back to Red's filled-out hips. "CAN I LOOK?" Blue asked. "SHOW ME?"

Red, who had been the faintest pink in the face, flushed far more vividly. He gripped the end of his skirt in both hands, and carefully, shyly, lifted it. Underneath, Red was wearing a tight pair of bright blue panties, and in them, held upright by the reinforced waistband, was his stiff, hard cock. The translucent ecto displayed clearly the thick sounding rod settled inside, the decorative end (a bright blue fake pearl) sitting proudly at the top.

Blue felt the smile on his face widen. He reached in, rubbing his knuckle up and down the length of his datemate's lovely, abused member. Red made a choked off noise, his legs nearly buckling as his hips trembled. The sight of it made Blue's soul flutter.

"FEELING GOOD, MY LOVE?" Blue asked sweetly, still stroking with that gentle technique. Today was a gentle day. You could still be cruel with gentleness, and he had to remind Red of that on occasion.

Red fought to catch his breath and keep from squirming. "y-yeah. sweetheart, don't f- dun'- fu-!!" Red moaned pitiably as Blue shifted to a proper half grip, grinding his full palm along Red's clothed shaft.

Blue loved watching Red struggle with his language. One of their rules was no cussing during a scene, and in return Blue tolerated it the rest of the time. Watching Red, who wove swears and vulgarities like an artform, struggling not to say his favorite profanity was one of the erotic and satisfying parts of Blue's experience. Not that he would ever say it out loud.

"USE YOUR WORDS, SWEETHEART," Blue reminded Red, still stroking the helpless dick in his hand.

"d-d-on't tease..!"

Blue purred, pulling his hand away. Red had his skirt fisted in what would have been a white knuckled grip (had he any flesh to whiten). He was shaking all over, drenched in sweat and already starting to drool. Blue loved seeing him like this.

But the night was only just beginning.

Blue took a gentle hold of Red's wrists, a gesture telling him to let go of his skirt, and pinned them against the closed door. He pressed closer, standing up on his toes to kiss Red properly, with all the affection he deserved. Red's satisfied noise buzzed pleasantly against Blue's teeth, his arms slack and pliant in his hold as they both enjoyed the moment.

When Blue pulled away, he checked the pocket of his suit to make sure the remote was still safe there. Red stiffened at the sight of it, eyelights focusing on the dial. Blue teased his finger over it, watching as Red stiffened more, trying to brace for the sensation that was not yet to come, then put it away again. "OK!! SO EVERYTHING IS READY!!"

Red nodded. "ready when you are, sweetheart."

Blue linked arms with Red, smiling and nuzzling his shoulder, offering a bit of help balancing (since he knew Red wasn't quite as practiced in heels as Blue was). They headed out the door, and Blue helped Red situate himself in the car before starting the engine and driving to what was going to be the Best. Party. Ever.

* * *

Red felt incredibly vulnerable (with no small amount of humiliation) as he let Blue help him out of the car. Walking at all just reminded him with the unmistakable, inescapable sensations of his stiff dick and the looming threat of the vibe in his ass, just as it had when he'd practiced in the house to make sure he would be able to function: but walking in _heels_, that was a whole other beast, and it was only Blue's excitement, the way he looked at Red in them, that made it possible to endure. Red reasoned that he wouldn't be doing much in the way of walking or standing without Blue to help him anyway, since he was a couch potato at parties to begin with. He would be fine for a few hours, and he wasn't going to turn his nose up at walking barefoot if he had to.

The skirt, however, was another problem: even the tiniest movement from his legs made him feel like it was going to flip up, and show the whole world what he had under there. It was open, and airy, and unsecured in a way that kept him constantly aware of every, torturous sensation. This of course meant there would be no ignoring his building need and baser urges.

Red had come to realize he enjoyed having his boundaries pushed, at least when he knew he was being supervised and someone trustworthy was holding the safety net. Tonight was a night his boundaries were definitely being pushed, and looking down at Blue, he knew someone _very trustworthy_ was holding that safety net. He had no doubt Blue had a change of clothes and only stars knew what other care tools hidden away in the car or in his inventory (or maybe both). So, despite his discomfort, Red was willing, and excited, to do this with Blue.

Red just hoped that nobody he knew was going to be at the party...

"RED?" Blue asked, noticing Red looking at him.

"nothin', jus' thinkin'," Red assured, pulling himself out of his headspace. Blue was looking pretty good, wearing a suit that was reminiscent of a gangster. The formal, composed look, gentlemanly chivalry hiding the depths of his capabilities, was a fitting look on Blue for a number of reasons (not the least of which being that he looked damn good in a suit). It was ironic, in a way: nobody they knew would believe the things Blue did to him, for him (except maybe Razz, who had been privileged with a firsthand demonstration).

Blue grinned. "READY TO HAVE SOME FUN?" He asked, eyelights starry and innocent (_manipulative liars, and just another thing about Blue that Red found amusing_).

"yeah."

Blue kissed Red's hand (perhaps a nod to their 'costumes', and if Red had been told a year ago he was going to be out in public dressed like a gogo dancer, he would have killed the messenger and spat on his dust). With a giggle (presumably at the face Red inadvertently made), Blue opened the door and walked him inside.

All of Red's hopes of not running into anyone he knew were dashed, as the entire party seemed to consist of skeletons from across the multiverse. Red recognized every single face, them all being Sans-types.

Razz was there, dressed as some kind of egyptian pharaoh. He glanced in their direction over the lid of his plastic cup (a gaudy bright orange in the spirit of Halloween) and waved.

The other monster he had been talking to (someone Red only vaguely recalled meeting, a horror type in a kilt complete with bagpipes) turned to look. Red _saw_ him do a double take, and felt all the more heavily just how unusual he was dressed and how little hope he had of not getting noticed.

"STILL OKAY, SWEETEST?" Blue asked.

Red took a deep breath. "yeah, i'm good."

Blue grinned. "GOOD BOY."

Red felt the shiver go down his spine and right to his groin. He nodded, not trusting his voice again at the moment.

Blue walked Red through the crowd, heading for snack table. Red saw there were two punch bowls: 'Punch', and 'Haunted Punch'. He could only imagine what was haunting the second punch, so he decided on the regular kind.

Blue seemed to be of the same mind, letting Red watch him pour them drinks from the un-spiked punch bowl. "DO YOU WANT ANY SNACKS?" He asked, passing the drink.

Red took it, sipping to try and hide the blush he could feel burning on his face. "uh. maybe..." He looked over the choices. There were 'haunted' brownies, which sounded appealing (it might help him relax), but Blue snapped his fingers, drawing Red's attention back to him.

"LETS NOT HAVE ANY 'HAUNTED' THINGS SO SOON, OKAY? I WANT YOU TO HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO GET COMFORTABLE."

Red sighed, chuckling. "ok. how about some chisps?"

"CHISPS ARE UNHEALTHY BUT THAT IS OKAY EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE." Blue leaned up to give Red a smooch, linking arms with him and walking him into an ajacent room with a number of couches. "YOU SIT RIGHT HERE AND WATCH MY DRINK OK? I WILL GET US THOSE SNACKS!"

"ok" Red hummed, wiggling on the couch as he tried to get comfortable without letting his legs spread open. It was a feat, a challenge he never even thought about. It was weird feeling the couch under his thighs, unbuffered by fabric. He kept wanting to reach under and behind him, to check with his hands that he was still covered.

Blue skipped off, leaving Red with two cups and a building apprehension about what would happen next. He started to people-watch, trying to distract himself from all the squirming he wanted to do: there were a pair of lazy bastards in animal kigurumi, playing darts; there was a couple, one in a tuxedo and a tophat, the other in a mask, straight jacket, and what looked like the telltale iconic orange onesie of a convict sitting in the suit guy's lap; there was a guy in a horse costume, except he was only the butt half; there was a guy with big black wings, the tips painted in oranges and reds to look like they were on fire, wearing a long white robe and a cheesie halo that was painted to look cracked; there was-

Red jumped, back arching as _there was the first shocking vibrations of the vibrator in his ass, teasing his sensitive nerves._ He nearly spilled both of the drinks in his hands. He took a big gulp of the one, hoping that nobody saw, that nobody noticed.

"Hey, great costume!" Someone sat down by Red, a guy in a Minecraft Steve costume, except he was carrying the mask and sat it in his lap. The guy had heterochomatic eyelights, that kept flipping to different symbols independently of each other with intense frequency. "You're a gogo dancer, right?"

"uh, yeah." _What the hell was this guy's name?!_ Red couldn't seem to think of it. Then again, most of his thought processing was being used up by his consciously fighting the urge to squirm and not let any uncensored noises creep out.

"I thought so!" The guy kept talking. "It suits you! I like the aesthetic. Maybe I'll try to pull it off later, although I don't think it would work in my case.

The vibrations increased, and Red sucked in a breath. "uh. sure?" _Damn it._

The other guy's eyelights hovered on a single combination (a heart and a star) thoughtfully, before moving on as he talked. Red tried to pretend to listen, but all he could think about was how much he wanted touched and how embarrassing it was that he was thinking that in such a crowded room. He felt like all eyes were on him, but he was sure it was just paranoia that made him see the flicker of eyelights turn in his direction. _Nobody knew. Nobody could see. The music was too loud to hear the vibrations._

Right?

"OH!! HELLO INK!! I DID NOT KNOW YOU WERE COMING!!" Blue's voice brought Red out of his daze. He was smiling, holding a plate of chisps and a few chocolate chip cookies.

"Blue!!" The guy, Ink, jumped from his seat to give Blue a hug. Blue returned it one handed, before taking Ink's vacant spot beside Red.

"I SEE YOU MET RED," Blue observed, setting the plate in Red's lap and taking his drink back. "I GOT YOU A FEW COOKIES, TOO, DEAR! EAT UP!"

Red couldn't hear it in his voice, but the look in Blue's eyelights, and the way his hand lingered on Red's trembling thigh, made it clear that it was an order. The sudden increase in the vibrators intensity only added credence to his observation.

"Dear?" Ink parroted, before grinning. "Oh! Is this that boyfriend you keep mentioning?"

"SURE IS!!" Blue put his arm around Red's waist. His hand settled on Red's hip, squeezing it gently, but firmly, his thumb teasing at the waistband. Red repressed a whine, his hips jerking weakly against his will. He started stuffing his face with the snackfood, hoping to distract himself from _just how fucking much he wanted to come_. What success he had was statistically insignificant.

"You were right," Ink agreed, sitting down on Blue's other side. "He's adorable. Just our type~"

Red almost choked.

Blue giggled. "I'M SORRY INKY, BUT THIS ONE IS MINE. AND I HAVEN'T DISCUSSED ANY SHARING HAPPENING TONIGHT." He rubbed Red's back soothingly, then teasingly ground his knuckles against Red's spine through his sweater, before returning his hand to Red's hip.

The way Blue kept glancing at Red's plate, Red had the feeling he should probably eat a bit faster. So he did, popping the cookies into his mouth whole before taking a drink and finishing off the chips.

"His mouth is pretty talented!" Ink again almost made Red choke. "Maybe I could come over some time to hang out with you both?"

"RED?" Blue asked.

Red washed down the last of his chips with the last of his punch. "why the f- why do ya wanna?"

"Oh, Blue is a work friend, but I wanna get to know him better! And that means getting to know _his_ friends!" Ink explained.

"whatever i guess," Red answered vaguely, not exactly in a state of mind to give two flying fucks if some weirdo wanted to watch Good Omens with him and his boyfriend or not.

"Great! How about next week?" Ink asked.

"I WILL TEXT YOU THE DAY OF AS A REMINDER!"

"You're the best, Blue!"

Red felt Blue tug on him, supporting him, and stood up for the silent instruction. His legs were shaking even harder than before, and his vision was getting blurry.

"COME ON RED, WALK WITH ME?" Blue chirped.

Red nodded, stumbling along at his guidance, just trying not to twist his ankle, leaning most of his weight on Blue and not really seeing where they were going until he noticed the music was muted and distant, along with the sound of the crowd.

Blue eased Red onto a bed, stealing a kiss that only made the ache and the need stronger. Red hoped nobody else was there, because he couldn't hold in the embarrassing noises anymore.

"AT YOUR LIMIT, SWEETHEART?" Blue murmured. "WE'RE ALONE. IT IS OKAY."

The reassurance cracked the last of Red's pitiful facade. "sweetheart, fu- i-"

"WORDS, RED." Blue cupped Red's face with one hand, his other wandering down to stroke him through his clothes, flimsy as they were.

Red bucked up, pleasure building up into a painful, delicious pressure that had him seeing stars and unable to think. "wanna cum! please-!!"

"YOU HAVE BEEN DOING REALLY GOOD!" Blue praised. "YOU LASTED MUCH LONGER THAN I EXPECTED!! YOU'RE SO SENSITIVE, I THOUGHT YOU WOULDN'T MAKE IT THROUGH A SINGLE CONVERSATION ON LEVEL ONE!! BUT YOU DID!! ON LEVEL THREE!! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!!"

That praise mixed and melded with the ache and the pain and the pleasure, mixing with the endorphin rush and adding to Red's dizzying high. Red felt Blue flip up his skirt, and start to tease at the sounding rod. Another intense wave of blinding heat and pain and pleasure had Red's sobbing, clawing at both Blue's suit jacket and the sheets he was laying on.

"I'M GOING TO TAKE THIS OUT, BUT YOU HAVE TO HOLD IT IN UNTIL I CAN PUT THE CONDOME ON, OK?" Blue spoke calmly. "LETS KEEP THE MESS TO A MINIMUM HERE."

"yeah, yes, just fu- just _please_-!!" Red didn't know what he was begging for anymore. A deep, old part of him wondered how he was conditioned to beg so freely. He used to be so proudly opposed...

Blue smirked down at him, and he wiped some of the tears (_thats why his vision was blurry_) off Red's face. "YOU LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL LIKE THIS. YOU'RE DOING SO GOOD." He started to ease the sounding rod out, centimeter by aching centimeter.

The vibe still kept tormenting Red. Every inch of the sounding rod out made him realize with building urgency just how aroused he was, and how close to orgasm he had been for the past only-fuck-knows how long. Holding back seemed _impossible_ with that still running, pushing him, driving him crazy-!!

Blue hadn't turned it off, however, and Red was aware that the chances of that being part of the game were pretty high.

The rod came out, slick and hot from his body heat. Red's hips came off the bed, following after it as he thrashed and struggled with his own desire and capacity for release.

How he held back, Red couldn't even begin to say.

"THATS MY GOOD BOY!" Blue praised again, before rewarding Red with another kiss. "JUST A FEW MORE MOMENTS, LOVE."

Blue pulled away from Red, and the noise that clawed its way passed Red's teeth was like that of a wounded animal. Every part of him screamed that he _did not want_ his datemate to leave him, even though the logical part of his mind knew Blue was still right there. Blue giggled, cooing soft, wordless assurances as he worked, and Red felt the gentle pressure of him slipping the condom on.

"OK, RED, GO AHEAD," Blue purred, turning up the vibe one last time. "COME FOR ME."

The command and the stimulation slammed into Red all at once, and he couldn't have resisted if he tried. Red blacked out, his last thoughts of pleasure and relief.

* * *

Blue switched off the vibrator, putting the controller away into his coat pocket again. He leaned over Red, admiring his hard work.

Red's face was tear-stained (the tears having started sometime during his talk with Ink), mixing with his still vivid blush and the rivulets of drool. He was lovely. Blue couldn't imagine a greater thrill than making his datemate this uncontrollably happy. He stole one last (_and wasn't that the lie of the century_), loving kiss, before getting to work on cleanup, taking the condom off and disposing of it in the designated bin, removing and cleaning the vibe to be put in its box, and wiping Red down with a wet cloth.

Blue carefully scooped Red up in a fireman's carry (he would have used bridal style, but that left gravity to try and show off Red's assets, and he knew Red wasn't ready for so many partners yet) and carried him down to the quiet lounge area, so that someone else could use the bedroom if they needed it.

Laying Red out on the couch, Blue sat down and put Red's head in his lap. He would usually be more interested in mingling, but his datemate came first. Besides, who wouldn't want to brag about being (and having) such a magnificent datemate, trophy and all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Ink was not the only one at this BDSM-Disguised-As-A-Halloween Party who inquired to Blue for a threeway
> 
> And this was the moment everyone realized that Red was the sub, but nobody could figure out who the dom was (except Ink and Razz)
> 
> [Day 19: Meanwhile, Also at the Party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50175104) follows a concurrent event to this one


	13. Day 12: Apple of Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Licking | Pet Play | Rimming/Analingus | Costume  
**Kinks:** Licking | Rimming/Analingus | Cunnilingus | Public Play  
**Pairing:** HoneyCider (Underswap!Papyrus / Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; depression; mention of drug use; implied/referenced death; implied/referenced noncon; dubcon; secret relationship
> 
> Apparently for Nightmare, it is Snacc or be Snacced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5k words. FIVE THOUSAND WORDS. of me justifying a crackship i needed for reasons. its hot shit dont read this, find something better.
> 
> i thought of that shipname myself so idk fuck me i guess

Stretch couldn't remember how long it had been, but he might have been a little drunk (and by 'how long' and 'might,' he meant the house had devolved into a chaotic maelstrom of the depression lifestyle, a veritable sea of beer cans and honey glazed granola wrappers that, if he were to stand upright, would be up to his shins). Stretch was laying somewhere on what he thought was the floor (it could have been the coffee table, but it all felt the same when it was covered in trash and most of his body was numb anyway), staring listlessly up at the ceiling, worn down by the loop of abject defeat and misery circling his mind:

_Blue was gone. His brother was gone._

Given that he was nearly falling down, surely he could be forgiven for not immediately noticing the gathering darkness in the corner of the room, or the low, amused chuckle that echoed from it.

"...You know, this was funny the first few days, but now you're just boring."

Stretch sat up, knocking a candy wrapper off his chest. "sans-?!"

But it was not his brother. The twinkling hope in his soul vanished. Instead of the bright cyan eyelights that he missed so much, there was the enemy of everything he ever wanted in life: Nightmare.

"what are _you_ doing here?" Stretch asked, a part of him trying to sound vehement in his disgust and revulsion, but even to his own ears he only sounded tired and disappointed.

"I came to see who was so kind as to lay me out such a feast," Nightmare said, almost pleasantly. "How interesting that it would be you, so close to my manipulative twin, that would satisfy my hunger so."

"i'm not entertainment, or a snack for you. go away." Stretch lay back. The unspoken sentiment hung heavy in the air. _Let me die in peace._

Stretch heard rather than saw the displacement of cans and trash as Nightmare grew closer. "Do tell me," he murmured, soft and coaxing, a tone Stretch had heard a thousand times from Dream (_and didn't the comparison just send a shiver down his spine_), "to what do I owe thanks for this treat?"

Stretch sighed. "My brother is gone." _What was the point anymore? Without Sans, why did he bother?_

A quiet hum answered him, then more clinks of tin against tin and the crumple of plastic. Nightmare was hovering in the air, held aloft my tentacles that moved him above the sea of trash. "And what, you have not gone to your precious Star Sanses for help? Little Blueberry is lost and no Ink or _Dream_-" and wasn't that name spat with vitrol- "to join the search~?"

Stretch recalled his attempts to reach out: how Ink came when he was called, but dismissed Stretch's concerns and left; how Dream did not come at all, ignoring him completely; how Stretch couldn't even hunt them down, when he knew where they were, never mind search the multiverse for a brother he had no clues to the whereabouts of. It made his blood boil, in a muted echo of an emotion, compressed and overrun by hopelessness that was rapidly eating away at his being. "no." The word sounded as hollow as he felt.

There was more silence, and Stretch thought perhaps he had finally been left alone, when Nightmare's voice came to him again. "And what would you pay to know of his status?"

Stretch sat bolt upright. "what???"

Nightmare was sitting cross-legged on a pillar of his own tentacles, arranged in a mockery of a throne. He had his chin resting in his palm, braced by the elbow on his knee. "I asked: What would you pay to know how your poor, naive, defenseless little Blueberry, was doing?"

"anything." Stretch answered immediately.

"That is quite a lot to offer for such a small thing."

"it isn't small to me."

Nightmare looked down at Stretch, thoughtful. "Then I will see what I can do. Perhaps. It might be interesting to see how miserable he is..."

Before Stretch could say a word, Nightmare was suddenly gone, the darkness receding until it was like it had never been. Stretch sat there, staring blankly, wondering if maybe he had imagined it. Hallucination or not, however, the possibility, however small, of hearing something, _anything_, about his brother, gave him enough hope to keep going.

* * *

Nightmare was practically purring, his vines coiling and thrashing behind him in glee. He'd found it: he'd found out where that disgusting Star Sans was, and it was a _deliciously horrible_ fate. It had cost him a minion (a small price, considering how easily replaceable they were) to bribe Fresh into confirming his suspicions, but _he had been right_!!

Nightmare rushed over to Underswap, eager to inform the brother of his terrible fate. Stretch had been radiating sweet, sweet misery and fear the entire time, a pinpoint of negativity in a sea of its antithesis, a blot on his brother's landscape of smiles and insincerity. Nightmare was very glad he'd been in time to stay Death's hand: letting such a vividly energetic soul Fall Down would have been such a waste.

In the Swapshit's house, the bog of garbage had been somewhat swept away, leaving only the most mild of messes in its wake. Stretch was ragdolled on the coffee table, still clutching a trashbag and a ball of tissues. Nightmare smirked, sauntering closer and having his vines form him a proper seat, lounging victoriously. "I have come to uphold our bargain, welp."

Stretch jolted awake, dropping the bag and tissues. "sa- oh." The way Stretch's pallor deteriorated so quickly was validating. "n-nightmare..??"

"In the flesh, sans the flesh," Nightmare agreed. "Surprised to see me?"

"yeah, actually..." Stretch sat up, before slouching on the couch.

Something about that casual motion irked at Nightmare. _Was he not afraid? He should be afraid! Fear meant misery! Fear meant respect! Who was this puny mortal to think he could disrespect the keeper of negativity?!_

"kinda figured i'd, heh, _had a nightmare._"

Nightmare felt his whole being freeze, as though time for him personally had been stopped. _Did he just joke about him?! Him?!?!_ Nightmare couldn't recall anyone talking to him so... informally, so calm. It had always been with derision, fear, or hate. Even before the Incident, it had been with derision, fear, or hate. Not even Ink or Dream himself spoke so casually to him (and he didn't want them to).

"Yes. Well." Nightmare decided to ignore it. Making a big deal might take away from his game. He smiled. "I found out where he is," Nightmare explained. Seeing the rapt attention he now had from the slovenly bastard, Nightmare couldn't help but preen. "And I must say, it is everything I could have hoped for. Have you any idea how very hopeless your situation?" Nightmare shifted in his seat, watching Stretch's face, drinking in the depression. "Blueberry is in the inescapable clutches of Error, God of Destruction. He is held prisoner in the Anti-Void-"

"he's alive?!"

Nightmare clicked his teeth shut irritably. _Being interrupted during a monologue was hardly something he was used to either._ "For now. Although there is no telling how long that will last, given his jailer is the Lord of Erasure."

Nightmare expected misery, he expected wails of anguish and suffering and sympathetic pain. He expected tears, and those he got, at least, glittering fragile things Stretch tried to hide behind his arm. What Nightmare did not expect was the surge of relief, and the wet, disbelieving laugh, and the slurred, chanted shreds of, "thank god, thank fuck, thank you..!" that escaped Stretch as he broke down, shaking with the sheer power of the assuagement this news had inadvertently provided.

Nightmare flinched, but could not bring himself to look away. _This was not what he was expecting at all._ "Why are you happy??? Why are you _thanking me?!_"

Stretch didn't answer right away. Incensed, Nightmare surged forward, slamming his arm against the back of the couch by Stretch's head, making him sit up straight as he loomed, his vines thrashing behind him in a display of power meant to intimidate Stretch into compliance (and fall back into the expected script their paradigm demanded. "_Why are you thanking me?!?!_"

"because..." Stretch swallowed. "ya found him. and he's alive. you found him for me. _thank you._"

Nightmare shook, the world narrowing down to the words he had never, in all his life, expected to hear. He clawed at the couch cushion, then yanked himself back and through a portal, back to his home of extravagance and despair, where things made sense. He took his ire out on the walls, on the floor, on Cross and Dust and anyone else who happened to wander into his line of sight as he stalked the halls back to his throneroom, suffused with his black sap.

There he curled up, and tried to erase from his mind the only memory of genuine gratitude he had ever known.

* * *

Nightmare was sitting at the head of the table, watching in boredom as his minions ate in sullen, tense silence. Usually they would at least bicker amongst themselves, entertain him, but lately they were even more fearful, even more tense and uneasy, and while it was delicious, he was not amused. Besides his need to devour the negativity they emitted, the baser compulsion to seek it out and absorb it, the usual activities of his estate could hold none of his attention. It was incredibly frustrating, souring what would have otherwise been a good mood (or as good as Nightmare was capable, not that he could be affected by his own emotions anyway).

The atmosphere of his illustrious abode had never been as anxious or foreboding, but Nightmare could not bring himself to be enthused. It only worsened his mood, seeing something he should be gleefully reveling in and having no drive to do so.

It was towards the end of the latest in an increasingly long line of uninteresting dinners when Nightmare felt it: the sudden appearance of a swirling maelstrom of emotion, negative and positive and confused all at once, in an otherwise empty universe somewhere on the fringes of the explored web of existence. Nightmare sat up ramrod straight (and to the observers in the room, his head tilted like that of a cat hearing something game-changing), pinpointing the exact comparative location before falling through a portal he opened up under him, seeking it out.

There it was, despite all odds: the lost brother of the Underswap verse so ripe with contention.

To Nightmare's disdain, he was not the only one who had noticed the change, the return, as Dream stepped calmly through a portal of his own a mere second later, opposite Nightmare so that the crumpled heap of traumatized skeleton lay between them.

"Nightmare. It has been too long. How have you been?" Dream smiled pleasantly (a smile that did not reach his eyes, as it never did, not like it used to).

"Drop dead," Nightmare snapped, having no pre-prepared speech to flaunt in his brother's face.

Dream considered the scene they were in, players on a stage of their own devising. "I see. Then this is not some trap of yours, to tip our war in your favor?"

"Of course it is," Nightmare lied.

"...Of course. Well then, I suppose I should politely fall into it, should I not?" Dream strode closer, until he could pick Blue up in his arms. "...How mysterious, I am unharmed. I suppose I have good fortune to thank for that."

"It will not save you next time."

"...Of course it will not," Dream agreed in that condescending sweetness which Nightmare loathed above all others. "Until then, brother dear." He left, and Nightmare felt him stroll into Underswap, returning the lost skeleton to his home, and the brother still waiting for him.

* * *

Stretch stalked angrily out of the house, slamming the door behind him to shut out the last irritated caw of his brother. Stretch was _so fucking thankful_ he had been returned home safely, but now he was taking so many risks!! _Why couldn't he just listen?!?!_

Why did Blue want to see Error again?! Was it part of his trauma?! Stolkholm?! _Why did Blue want to keep working with Ink and Dream?!_ It was dangerous!! And thankless!! Those bastards didn't even care enough to look for him!! Not like-

"Trouble in paradise?" A familiar voice cooed from the darkness.

Stretch jumped, spinning to look into the shadows that had not been so thick in the trees before. _Nightmare_. "i don't wanna talk about it," he answered irritably.

"Oh? But I do." Nightmare propelled himself over the snow on those tentacles of his, dripping black ooze into the pristine white snow. His hands were behind his back, hidden under his cape. Stretch had never had the bandwidth to actually look at Nightmare, but under the intimidating ooze, he was actually dressed quite regally (save for the fact that he was not wearing any shoes, just socks that could have been any color under the black gunk staining them). "Some sibling arguments? Disagreements? Whatever could it be? Do tell~"

Stretch grit his teeth. _He wanted to rant and rave and holler about this very topic, but nobody else was on his side. Nobody even listened to him, thinking he was overprotective and unreasonable and-_ "blue wants to keep being a star sans and keeps looking for error and he's cavorting with powerful, dangerous people like ink and dream and- he isn't being _safe!!!_"

Nightmare made his little tentacle chair in the snow, legs crossed delicately as he leaned forward to give Stretch his undivided attention, grinning near-manically with amused glee as he watched Stretch pace back and forth, going on and on about all the crazy, dangerous stunts that they keep pulling, and how Stretch seemed to be the only one who gave a damn. Stretch collapsed when he was out of steam, uncaring of how the snow soaked through his cargo shorts and powdered the rest of him. He went to take another drag from his cigarette, but found it was a tiny butt and had to put it out in the snow.

Nightmare clapped, slow and damp, throwing tiny slatters of black goo in bursts. "Well said, well said."

"don't make fun of me," Stretch grouched irritably, lighting a new fag and blowing a smoke ring.

A tentacle snaked out faster than Stretch could blink, snagging the cigarette from his teeth and pulling it to Nightmare's face. Nightmare plucked it between his finger and thumb, twirling it before taking a puff of his own. "I do not mock-" _this time,_ "but if it is going to make such flavorful irritability, I may have to change that policy."

Stretch tried really hard not to think about how Nightmare had put something in his mouth that had been in Stretch's seconds before.

Nightmare perked up, tilting his head to one side as if listening to something, although the one eyelight uncovered by the slime oozing from him was trained on Stretch. "What?" His tone had gone hard, demanding.

"...you're not what i expected ya to be," Stretch answered.

"Nobody expects chaos or misery."

Stretch decided not to correct him. For now.

* * *

Nightmare was almost compelled to keep going back. Almost like clockwork (which it probably was, a predictable pattern likely dictated by the brothers' daily routine), Nightmare would notice a spike in negativity in Underswap. He'd drop whatever boring thing he happened to be doing at the time (bossing Fell around, tormenting Kink, lording over his minions, taunting his prisoners, whatever it happened to be) and step into the woods of the otherwise quaint, quiet little provincial town. There, he would wait for Stretch to bring him his outrage and worry and fear. Stretch delivered such a delightful treat, and every once in a while he'd drop little tidbits of hints about his brother's activities, which proved useful in defending his territory.

Overall, it was a rather profitable arrangement.

Something, however, nagged at Nightmare's thoughts.

"you been quiet lately," Stretch observed one night, leaning back in the lawnchair he had at some point brought out there for comfort.

"I am always quiet, it's you who never shuts the fuck up," Nightmare snapped without thinking.

"d-did you just _swear?!_"

Nightmare gave Stretch a dirty look. "Why is that so surprising? ...Why are you amused?"

Stretch covered his teeth, his cig pinned between index and middle finger. "dude, do you have any idea how you usually sound? You talk like, i dunno, toriel or someone else old and disconnected from the times, a prim and proper gentleman."

"I. Am old." Nightmare reminded him. "I am hundreds, thousands of years old."

"yeah, but you didn't sound it right then!"

Nightmare felt the heat of his magic flood his face. _This was why he kept his vernacular traditional and in check! Because he had an image to maintain!! Why of all times did he slip up in the presence of this bumbling waif?!_ His vines lunged forward, snatching the cigarette roughly from Stretch's hand. "Do not mock me, mortal!! You live on my whim!"

Stretch didn't even _flinch_, a realization that made Nightmare do a double take. "k."

"Why did you not recoil? Do you not realize how easy it would be to destroy you?"

Stretch shrugged, lighting another smoke. "if you were gonna hurt me you'd have done it by now. ya need me alive to get pissy and feed you negativity, right?" He chuckled. "and you're hentai tentacles don't really scare me when i'm pretty sure i'll be killed by some psycho 12-year-old any day now."

Nightmare resented the implication that a child with a butter knife was more terrifying than himself, but that wasn't the detail he focused on. "They are _vines_, not _tentacles_!!"

"vines??"

Nightmare extended one to Stretch again, wrapping it around his fingers. "Well, _roots_ may be a more accurate word, but that implies security to the ground, which I have evolved beyond. What to you think I use to drink and filter your negativity with??"

Stretch had stiffened in (rather tasty) fear at the sudden direct contact (something Nightmare realized was novel for him). But that fear drained away to be replaced with a mild, childish amusement. "its soft! no wonder you prefer sitting on them... wait, why doesn't it hurt?"

"Because I am not trying to squeeze the life out of you?"

"no, everyone says this sticky stuff-" Stretch rubbed at Nightmare's sap, the black viscousness sticking to the end of his finger and clinging in a long trail when extended away, "is, like, corrosive. but it doesn't hurt. it just feels sticky."

"I am a spiteful creature. When I want my sap to hurt, it hurts. I do not need millennia of evolution like some lesser plants to create my defenses."

Stretch thumbed and stroked at the vine (a novel sensation to Nightmare, making him shiver). "plants?"

"Did not my brother explain this to everyone already? We are tree spirits."

"no. he talks like he's an angel."

"Those are leaves, not feathers, he's full of shit."

Stretch chuckled, still fidgeting with the vine. "Its almost soothing to touch..."

"Of course it is. I'm eating your negativity. And you aren't generating more at the moment. Which, if you wouldn't mind doing? You've got Nightmare, Guardian of Misery, personally in your presence with your hand now hostage. Fear me."

Stretch snorted. "_fear me._ do something worth fearing and i will."

Nightmare glared daggers into the arrogant mortal's skull. He knew if he drew attention by using more of his power, even just to put Stretch in his place, then it would draw the attention of Dream and Ink. Making a scene where his brother had a home field advantage was not a smart thing to do, especially when he was alone.

That was his reasoning, and he would be sticking to it.

Stretch only smiled. "...wait, tree spirit? sap? if you can make sap, can you make maple syrup?"

_Of all the-_ "I am an _Apple_ Tree spirit, not _Maple_!!"

The side eye Stretch gave him was somehow more irritating. He stood up, stretching the arm not still wrapped in Nightmare's vine. "cider, then?"

Nightmare started to snarl _'no,'_ but stopped to think about it. "...I suppose..?"

Stretch slipped closer, closer to Nightmare than anyone but Dream had ever willingly gotten outside of battle. "_sweet_," he murmured.

Then Stretch leaned forward and, fisting the front of Nightmare's tunic, kissed him.

He kissed him.

_He fucking kissed him._

Nightmare had no idea how to describe the noise he made.

Stretch pulled back, face a bright orange, like the vividness of a lily in high summer. "this okay?"

Nightmare did not know how to compute. "What?"

"ya smell like booze and i'm thirsty. you okay if i lick?"

"You're asking to lick me?"

"only polite..?"

_What the fuck?? Who asks-???_

"You realize I could fucking poison you, or take over your god damn soul, do you not?"

Stretch's smug expression somehow got smugger. "i think you'd have done it by now if you were going to..." The way his voice trailed off, he must have decided to hold back another comment.

"I could kill you."

"you wont." Stretch murmured. "betting my life on it."

"Are you high?!?!" Nightmare demanded to know. His compound soul thrummed angrily (_it had to be angrily, what else could it be_) in his chest. _Nobody trusted him with their life, not even his own minions (and rightfully so)._ Stretch had to be under the influence of something, and it sure as fuck wasn't Nightmare.

"a little, yeah, but not enough to be, like, high."

"I would _beg_ to _differ!_"

Stretch chuckled. "yer cute when you're not torturing people."

Nightmare had nothing to say to that. Nothing to say to that at all. And when Stretch brought his tongue against Nightmare's neck, and followed through on his game of chicken, Nightmare didn't have much to say about that either.

At least, nothing coherent.

* * *

Stretch had a single pot brownie hours ago, but he was pretty sure that wasn't why he was being so forward.

Nightmare was... a complex person. Stretch was pretty sure whatever he saw during their little rendezvous was hidden incredibly well (by design) outside them, that he wouldn't recognize his vent buddy in his usual environment. Stretch heard horror stories (literal and metaphorical) of the creature known as Nightmare, of his cruelty, his sadism, his cunning and his vindictive nature.

Stretch saw that, sure, he could see it in his every move, in the way he spoke, in his very gaze. However, Stretch saw something else too; a curiosity, a depressingly familiar need for validation; a potential for something more.

Feeling that tentacle--vine--in his hand had only confirmed it: Whatever Nightmare's nature was, it wasn't inherently bad. What drove him to be the scourge of the multiverse was a tragedy of circumstance, and maybe, just maybe, it could change.

And _okay, fine,_ Stretch was a bit of a slut, and there was something about tasting cider on his tongue as he worked with what felt to him like a touched starved virgin.

It was hard to see from a distance, but up close, Stretch could just make out a vivid blush of purple light under the slime. _Nobody was going to believe him if he told them how cute Nightmare was._

"you'll let me know if you need me to stop, right?"

"There is _nothing_ you can do to me that will bother me in the least, you _insignificant fucking mortal_," Nightmare snarled.

Stretch chuckled. "as long as ya know." He went back to using his tongue, slow and careful, drinking in the unsightly black ooze that tasted like sharp cider, smelling of apples and dizzying fermentation. Swallowing it down didn't seem to be doing any harm, which meant Nightmare had been telling the truth, and he had full control of the intent of the substance.

Stretch wondered vaguely if Nightmare was capable of lying, any more than Dream was.

Stretch dug his tongue in until he could feel the bones of Nightmare's neck, smooth like polished wood. The scent was thickest near the joints, and when he licked, he heard the telltale catch of breath that meant his partner had _really liked that_. So he did it again, and once more for good measure, before moving on.

Unwilling to let go of the tentacle – vine - he had been given possession of, Stretch unfisted Nightmare's shirt and started working to unbuckle his belt, freeing it to hang loosely and let him snake his hand in to paw at Nightmare's ribs and spine. Nightmare was tense under his hand, quivering and sensitive, but he didn't seem to be pushing away, and the only noise to be heard was his increasingly heavy breathing.

The more Stretch fondled, the more Nightmare seemed to quiver. Eventually, Stretch questioned how sturdy he was on his hentai throne, and scooped him up carefully.

Nightmare went as still as the tree he claimed to be. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"well, figured you'd be more comfortable laying down," Stretch reasoned. _Wow,_ Nightmare was _damp. Wow,_ Nightmare was _light!_ Stretch was getting that cider-sap everywhere, all over him. He lay Nightmare on the lawn chair, going back to Nightmare's neck to lick and nibble and suck. The way the tentacles went limp, no longer needing to hold Nightmare upright, was incredibly satisfying.

The way Nightmare's hands gripped at his shirt, fidgeting and uncertain what to do with themselves, was _adorable_.

"You are wasting your time," Nightmare grumbled. "To what end do you bother doing this? You're not even doing it right, it's not hurting me at all."

"it's not supposed to." And Stretch wasn't going to question or think to deeply about that comment. Instead, he was going to slide his tongue along the cut of Nightmare's jaw while pawing at his waistband, loosening the strings and pulling it down enough to feel what he was working with. Stretch was mildly surprised to find a warming slit and rear where he expected something else, but he wasn't unhappy about the discovery.

Stretch didn't think he was _capable_ of feeling unhappy right then. It wasn't the insistent demand to be happy that Dream would push on him just by being in the same room. Instead, Nightmare's touch was a drug, leaching off any displeasure, leaving him plenty of breathing room to appreciate the little things.

Little things like the noises Nightmare made when he began to finger his ass.

Still not getting any sign of a 'no', Stretch worked one leg out of Nightmare's breaches, and slung it over his shoulder as he pulled back to settle between Nightmare's legs. The soft ecto summoned at Nightmare's hips was shining even more obviously under the black oil, making him shimmer with pearlescent swirls.

Nightmare blinked calmly up at the dark ceiling of the cave, tendrils coiling idly to wrap and grow around Stretch's arms and legs. Stretch tested his movement, finding them less than the iron-like bindings he had heard in the whispers of fearful alternates, and more like the fragile, giving vines they were meant to be.

Satisfied that his bluff was a good call, Stretch leaned in and continued to lick Nightmare all over, starting again from his patella and working up to the slowly soaking folds, where he lingered with great enthusiasm.

Nightmare was starting to squirm, tendrils flexing and twisting and then going lax, legs trembling. Stretch was on a sort of high he never felt before, a clear, calming zen that only left room for the delight and hunger at seeing the creature under him pleasured. If Nightmare only ever looked back at him in quick glances, then the expression he wore was worth it: confused, but equally calm, and tinted with arousal that twisted his face to something softer, gentler, than Stretch thought anyone else had ever seen.

Stretch drew away just long enough to switch from Nightmare's slit to his twitching ass, licking the rim, testing both the taste and response he would get. He was still apples and cider, heady bite and the ghost of sweetness. Nightmare arched his back at the change, before forcing himself to relax and pretend (poorly) that he was unaffected.

"hey," Stretch called, letting his breath buffer against Nightmare's bare body. "does feeling good hurt you?" If he ate negativity, would positive things make him weaker?

"Of course not," Nightmare growled. "Not unless it's weaponized. I just can't eat it."

Stretch relaxed, and happily went back to licking away, prodding until his tongue was deep inside.

Nightmare made a few small, soft noises, breathy mewling he did his damnedest to repress, before his whole body seized up, and Stretch's face was drenched in his squirted release. Stretch pulled back for the last time, licking his teeth clean and checking on his latest bedmate.

Nightmare was panting harder than ever through parted teeth. The sap, which had covered him completely at all times before, was worn thin, spotty in places to reveal the stark white of the bone underneath, and the purple flush that rose in it.

_Nobody would ever believe him, but Nightmare was cute._

Nightmare lay there, stunned and sated, before he sprung up in a sort of panic. His tendrils pulled away from Stretch like they had been burned, and quickly made themselves useful redressing Nightmare in record time. Nightmare was still woefully lacking in the sap that had become his iconic image, both eyelights now visible, shrunk and shaking in panic.

Before Stretch could ask what was wrong, he was gone, leaving Stretch alone (and messy) in the snow.

* * *

Nightmare retreated to his throne room, locking the doors behind him and curling up behind the throne. The walls and floor were still damp and sticky with his sap, but like his person, the thickness and viscosity had been greatly reduced, leaving the room more like it would be after a flood than like the inside of a great beast. Nightmare curled up into a ball, hiding his face.

_He hadn't seen it coming._

He did not know what 'it' was, but he knew Stretch had done _something_, _something_ that lured Nightmare in just as effectively as the song of despair, just as strong as any compulsion.

He swore to himself he would not go back, unless it was to burn the universe to ashes.

* * *

Stretch came out to the shadowed part of the woods the next day, and just like usual, Nightmare was there, waiting for him.

If Nightmare sat closer to Stretch's chair than before, vines stretched out in greater mass to drape territoriality over every available surface, Stretch wasn't going to be the one to comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Nightmare is very confused because for the first time in his life, someone trusted him, someone wanted him, and someone tried to make him happy. he's kinda pissed and humiliated honestly (because he liked it)
> 
> and now stretch is going to be OMG WTF I JUST TONGUED THE MOST NOTORIOUS BASTARD IN THE MULTIVERSE NOBODY CAN KNOW... but i wanna do it again i hope he comes back
> 
> and stretch is still very against blue hanging out with the star sanses and error but now he's a raging hypocrite and also covered in smelly black sap. lucky for him blue will probably jsut think he went apeshit on the cider at muffets. probably.
> 
> [AND SOMEONE GIFTED ME ART OF THEM AND I AM SHARING IT HERE SO GO APPRECIATE IT THANK YOU FONTY SODBDIDNSBDKDNDDJDNDJDNDND](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1060508)


	14. Day 13: Something is Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Weight Gain | Distant/Distracted Sex | Gags | Creampie  
**Kinks:** Weight Gain | Distant/Distracted Sex | Gags | Creampie | Tentacles | Edging  
**Pairing:** Underlust!Sans / Nightmare  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; rape/noncon; torture
> 
> Kink notices something different about his punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1k of nightmare being more interested in his phone than in punishing his minion

"You've become overweight," Nightmare commented idly, an innocuous observation if his dismissive tone was anything to go by. "I should put you on a diet. Maybe the same diet as Horror..."

Kink felt tears prick at his sockets. He considered himself at least somewhat attractive, but being _locked in the fucking dungeon_ for a month certainly wasn't doing his figure any favors: Horror kept sending him so much food (a desperate attempt on his part to try and comfort him, even with the isolation in place), and Kink, knowing his feelings regarding meals, forced himself to eat all of it. That, combined with the lack of space and recreational enrichment, meant that all the energy of that food was being stored in his soul, and distributing itself throughout his ectobiology. In layman's terms: he was, indeed, getting fat, and having that thrown in his face in this situation, in such a way, was a terrible blow to his pride.

Kink squirmed uselessly in Nightmare's grip, struggling with the tentacles pinning his arms behind his back, kicking uselessly to try (and fail) to shake off the one holding his legs open. The couldn't shake the one holding him upright by his waist either, squeezing his stomach (which was bloated from both the excess lunch and the sheer amount of cum he had been stuffed with over the last hour. He tried to shake off the tendril wrapped around his skull, gagging him and making any attempt at communication useless. Still, the next thrust into his abused cunt had Kink screaming, hips undulating as he sought out just that little bit more that he needed to come.

Nightmare forced his hips still, as he always did, squirming the tentacle inside Kink in frustrating, deliciously slick motions that kept him on the edge of orgasm longer and longer each time before going still completely.

Kink was sobbing with the ache of it, the heat that built up higher and higher yet still wouldn't kill him because Nightmare had his soul, and was forcing it to continue through the sweet agony of denial.

Kink felt the tentacle inside him ejaculate yet more of the purple and black cum that was boiling hot inside him, writhing as he again fought for release of his own, screaming and moaning and sobbing into the gag.

Nightmare was unmoved. That, in and of itself, wasn't unusual, given Nightmare took great pleasure in the misery of others (to the point Kink was certain it was less of a biological imperative and more of a fetish), but it was different than before: Nightmare was hardly paying any attention to him at all, his thrusts less to tease and more just him going through the motions, keeping it going less for the joy of it and more to have something to do. Kink knew what being teased and tortured felt like, but now he was nothing more than _a fidget toy._

Usually an attempt to scream and beg and plead at least got Nightmare's attention. Now, no matter what his attempts, Kink wasn't getting more than a glance.

Nightmare just kept typing away on his phone, using his hands and the interdimensional Wi-Fi to keep him entertained as he made Kink miserable to drain him of his negativity like a bowl of candy. Kink had been reduced to an idle, boredom snack.

A fidget toy, a snack: that's all he was to Nightmare.

And it was _so fucking weird_.

Kink was reaching his limit, if he were honest. He loved a good, long fuck as much as the next whore, but he _needed to come_. It was torture. He clenched around the tentacle, trying to beg with his body since his voice wasn't doing any good.

Nightmare only glanced at him before returning to his phone.

..._What that a smile?!?!_ Kink would have gasped if he had breath. Nightmare _was smiling_ at something on his phone. The Lord of Misery typed back what appeared to be a reply, chuckling softly to himself.

He finally noticed Kink watching him, eye narrowing suspiciously. The tentacle that had been in Kink's summoned pussy began thrusting rougher, faster, harder. Kink saw stars, his whole world blinded by a piercing heat and pleasure. Nightmare's voice purred smoothly over the air, vindictiveness, scorn and an edge of legitimate ire that Lust couldn't recall ever hearing before (the most off-putting part about Nightmare had always been how cheerful, how sportsmanlike he pretended to be, despite playing with their lives, and hearing that disappear was somewhat terrifying). "What _exactly_ do you find so amusing, you _five g whore_?"

Kink was simultaneously taken aback and viciously aroused, moaning shamelessly behind the gag.

"Am I not keeping you entertained?" Nightmare demanded. "Fantasizing about something more amusing, then? Because surely you mustn't have been finding _this-_" and at that moment, Nightmare thrust harder and deeper still to punctuate another ejaculation. "_Funny_."

Kink barely heard the last word, this skull ringing as his overloaded senses fried with the orgasm that was punched into him, hot and sharp and nearly painful with the strength of its convulsions.

Nightmare dropped Kink to the floor, yanking out of him. Kink felt what little breath he had knocked out of him, smashing his head painfully on the stone of the cell he had been relegated to.

The pain was overwhelming. Kink blacked out.

* * *

Nightmare stood over his troublesome minion, inspecting his condition.

Kink was a durable, persistent bastard, able to take a number of abuses and humiliations that his other subordinates could not survive. At the moment, Kink was swollen with Nightmare's magic, reinforcing the compulsions embedded in his soul. His pussy was leaking much of that release, but there was plenty still remaining. The sound he had made when he hit the floor prompted Nightmare to check his skull.

The crack there was... bigger than he expected. Possibly life threatening, or at least compromising. Nightmare scowled at it, reaching down to cup the back of Kink's skull and began to drain the entropy that had made the injury to begin with. In moments, there was no crack at all, and Nightmare flexed his hand, watching the smoke waft off it before he took a portal back to Underswap.

Today's exchange would be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kink is so confused when he wakes up
> 
> heh, since when can nightmare heal? hehehehe


	15. Day 14: Brotherly Love 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Asphyxiation | Cunnilingus | Distention | Tentacles  
**Kinks:** Asphyxiation | Cunnilingus | Distention | Tentacles | Aphrodisiacs | Incest | Humiliation | Orgasm Denial | Overstimulation | Somnophilia  
**Pairing:** Dreammare (Dream / Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; parallel to drug use; rape/non-con; incest
> 
> sequel to [Day 7: Brotherly Love 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49764071)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.9k of a sequel yall asked for

The switch back to his own body was almost painful in its abruptness.

One moment, Dream was living in his brother's bones, hands wandering and rubbing and delighting in the feel of them, seeking out anywhere that felt good and how. Nightmare's body had slowly lost its ability to control itself (a side effect of the paint gunking up his systems): any and all magical constructs that had been present were systematically dematerialized, except for the midriff, hips, ass, and dripping slit that demanded attention. Dream had enjoyed his time playing with his borrowed body's swollen clit, working himself-and-soon-to-be-Nightmare into a lather of arousal and need.

The next moment, Dream was back in his own body, awake, alert, messy, and sated. He sat up, rolling his shoulders and stretching before easing to his feet and going to his pile of clothes to find the wet wipes. He had really made a mess of himself, but it certainly was nice to cash in on the endorphins.

After getting cleaned up and redressed, Dream again summoned his wings, lush, vibrant things covered in his leaves (although he preferred to call them 'feathers' aloud). He flexed them, using the leaves to start once again absorbing the ambient positivity of the multiverse. He took a deep breath, settling them neatly under his cape and then finally going to check on his brother.

Nightmare was still unconscious, half stripped from Dream's exploration and looking terribly delicious in his vulnerability. Dream began the slow, patient process of relieving Nightmare of the rest of his clothes, blouse and tunic and belt, cape and breaches. He let him keep his socks, finding them cute.

Nightmare barely stirred, but his slit continued to leak his arousal, filling the air with the scent of apples and cider.

Dream rolled his shoulders, flexing a technique he rarely used. He started growing vines, long, dexterous tentacles of his own, glowing a soft gold like his wings and eyelights. He used four, one for each wrist and ankle, to hold Nightmare's limbs, and a fifth to lift him up from the ground by the middle. Nightmare hung limp in Dream's hold, dripping the black resin of negativity that he wore like a mantle right along with his arousal.

_He really was adorable, brows furrowed in distress, chest heaving, joints glowing with arousal._ Dream couldn't quite stop his hand from alighting on Nightmare's neck, tracing one of his cervical joints. Nightmare's breath hitched, and Dream could sense the pleasure build up a little higher inside him.

Dream was going to make certain Nightmare woke up to a lot of that.

After making a comfortable seat for himself out of his tentacles, sitting down and making certain he himself were comfortable, Dream raised Nightmare up just a little bit higher. First one leg, then the other, was rested on Dream's shoulders. Dream ran his hands along the slender, vulnerable planes of Nightmare's legs, letting his fingertips tease the inner surfaces of his tibia and fibula. He felt Nightmare's shiver, felt the ripples of his magic prickle in confusion and appreciation of Dream's gentle touch.

Dream pressed his teeth to Nightmare's patella, and the soft spot where magic attached to bone and became false flesh. Again Nightmare trembled, unaware of how honest his body was in sleep.

The intoxicating scent he continued to project drew Dream ever closer. Dream nibbled up his brother's thigh, pausing to squeeze gently at the chubby, delicious part, taking his time to appreciate Nightmare's body in a way he couldn't from the inside.

Soon, however, Dream was drawn to the heady sweetness dripping from Nightmare's slit, his pussy trembling weakly. Dream lingered, purring softly. "I have you, Night," he assured, kissing the tip of Nightmare's clit before swirling it with his tongue. He watched Nightmare's face, going slow, unwilling to let him wake up quite yet.

Nightmare sighed, his body tensing and going lax in waves, squirming and grinding weakly against Dream's face. Dream slid down to massage at the soft, plump ass, uncaring of the mess that Nightmare's ooze was making of his clothes.

Nightmare whimpered, the scent of his arousal growing stronger. Dream continued to lick at his clit, gentle and affectionate, as he brought his finger up to prod at Nightmare's pussy. His one phalanx slid in easily, Nightmare's wet walls clinging to him, begging him to go deeper. Dream could feel how they trembled, stronger with each little stroke of his tongue. He began pumping that finger, in and out, slow and careful, trying to stretch him out just a little bit more. Nightmare opened for him, so much so that he could continue with two fingers.

Dream's hand and wrist were drenched, purple translucent moisture glittering against his white bones. He pulled himself back a little to lick at them, purring. He tasted sweet and musky and bitter, apple cider that had fermented a tad longer than ideal. Dream still loved it. He also adored how Nightmare looked, blushing hard enough to shine through the black ooze, pearlescent in its beauty. Nightmare's hips continued to move, seeking out stimulation, affection.

"Do not worry, brother," Dream cooed, leaving another kiss on Nightmare's thigh. "I'm still here. I have you. You are loved. You are always loved."

Dream brought his tongue down probing at the source of Nightmare's sweet scent, licking along the outer walls before probing tentatively into Nightmare's pussy. The heady taste was intoxicating. Dream couldn't help but wonder how Nightmare didn't have _more_ followers, if he had such a tempting prize to offer. He started off slow, gentle, tasting him and looking for the angles and pressures Nightmare liked the most.

Nightmare continued to squirm weakly in his sleep, worn from his previous affections. Dream smiled, lapping and drinking him in. Dream would do right by his brother, make his precious Night feel all the love and happiness he could possibly offer.

Night was beginning to breath more erratically, his toes curling cutely in his little socks. Dream felt him clench harder around his tongue, the slick walls dampening further. Dream let his tongue go still, rubbing soothingly at Nightmare's thigh. Too much excitement so soon would end the fun. He waited until Dream felt Nightmare relax further, and then resumed, gentle laps and lavs of his tongue to massage Night's inner walls.

Dream brought Nightmare close, again, and again, and again, and with each repetition, each drag of his tongue and murmur of reassurance, Nightmare only got wetter, and his joints only glowed brighter through the ever present ooze.

Despite Dream's excellent caretaking, the heat in Nightmare proved to be too much, and sometime during the end of another cycle, when Nightmare was approaching his edge, he blinked awake, disoriented and breathless. His squirming grew stronger the closer he came to wakefulness (and the closer he came to orgasm). Without seemingly knowing hit, he was grinding into Dream's face. His whimpers and breathless exhalations were _delicious_. Dream adored it.

"What is-" Nightmare started to ask, only to cut off with a shameless moan as Dream licked up the pace of his licking, prodding mercilessly at the soft spot he noticed was so sensitive, using his hand to tease the poor clit that had been left untouched for so long. Nightmare arched his back, crying out at the stimulation, his body begging for more even as his mind tried to make sense of it all.

Dream stopped just before Nightmare could find release, pulling his mouth away and licking his teeth clean of the sweet, heady juices. "Are you awake now, my darling Night?" He asked rhetorically. "If you are still tired, you can go back to sleep. I have you."

"F-Fuck you-!!" Nightmare snarled.

"Already did," Dream reminded him. "Now it is your turn..." And with that, he resuming licking, drawing Nightmare to the brink of bliss, only to let him wind down again at his leisure. Dream didn't bother counting. Instead, he kept track of his progress by watching Nightmare's face, and feeling him in his hands.

Only when Nightmare was a drooling, tear-streaked mess, his voice dragged out of him in wretched, desperate gasps and sobs, did Dream pull away again. Making his sullenly quiet brother moan was a work of patience, but Dream was not resentful of it. In fact, the more he tried, the more he adored the work.

Dream adored making Nightmare so expressive. Perhaps there were a few other people Dream would want to do the same to, some other time.

Now, however, Dream was going to make sure Nightmare felt everything he had to give. Summoning a few more tentacles, Dream lined them up with Nightmare's pussy and asshole, probing them. With only a little rubbing to slicken up, they both plunged into him, burrowing as deep as they were able and then swelling in thickness to what Dream determined was Nightmare's limit.

Nightmare made a few more adorable noises, struggling uselessly. His eyelight fogged, rolling up in his socket.

Dream's gaze was pulled away from Nightmare's face for once. Instead, it focused on Nightmare's middle, where his false flesh was being distended from within, a visible lump protruding outward. Dream used his hand to rub it, feeling the shape of his tentacle buried within. The rubbing made Nightmare squirm, and Dream felt his insides clench and slicken further.

"There, see? I'll take good care of you, darling Night." Dream continued to gently rub and sooth Nightmare's stomach, and after a few strokes, began to pound into him with both tentacles, fast and hard.

Nightmare cried out, arching again and squirming and writhing, just as Dream planned. Dream felt his brother come, felt his legs tremble and his walls clench and spasm. Dream didn't stop his attention, still rubbing Nightmare's middle, and using another tentacle to play with his clit.

"See? This time, I want you to enjoy it as much as possible. I'll make you feel amazing, feel loved and tended to."

It wasn't long before Dream had Nightmare stuck in a loop of orgasms, drawing them out long after the next one had racked through his body.

"I can't-" Nightmare started to babble. "I can't I can't I-"

Dream wrapped a tendril around Nightmare's throat, squeezing. Nightmare's babbling cut off, mouth open and struggling for air he didn't actually need.

"You can," Dream corrected him. "You can, you can feel good, you can be treasured, you can keep going. I believe in you, my darling Night."

Nightmare struggled harder, shaking his hips in irregular patterns. It was a few minutes before Dream realized he hadn't gotten Nightmare to come again for a bit. Dream quickened his pace, rubbed his clit harder, but still nothing, although Nightmare was wet enough to flood a city.

"Is something the matter, brother?" Dream asked. "Is this not pleasing you? It looks like it is... Oh." Dream chuckled. "I forgot. How long has it been since I let you breathe? I'm sorry, brother..." Dream relaxed his grip on Nightmare's neck.

Nightmare seized up again, and _screamed_, wracked by another heavily built up climax. It lasted longer than many of the others, and when it finally passed, Night was once again unconscious.

Purring, Dream retracted his tentacles, all but the ones holding Nightmare upright. He shivered with pride. Nightmare was a ruined mess of pleasure, wet and dripping and wretched and satisfied. Dream leaned in, stealing a kiss, nuzzling their frontal bones together. "There. I told you. I'll make you so happy, Night. I'll do _whatever it takes_ to make you happy."

"Whatever it takes."


	16. Day 15: How You Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Forniphilia (Human Furniture) | Overstimulation | Thigh-Fucking/Intercrural sex | Uniforms  
**Kinks:** Forniphilia (Human Furniture) | Overstimulation | Thigh-Fucking/Intercrural sex | Uniforms | Handjobs  
**Pairing:** Drink (Dream / Ink)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; dubcon
> 
> Ink's paints run out and Dream tries to take care of his friend (in the creepiest way possible). Ink doesn't seem to mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~2k of garbage and dream being accidentally and ignorantly manipulative, but ink doesn't care so i guess its ok? -shrug-

"You know, I like you this way too, sometimes," Dream admitted, smoothing out the last little wrinkle and stepping back to look Ink up and down. He wore a maid outfit rather well. "A little bit of quiet time with friends. I'll keep you company until Fresh comes back."

Ink, eyelights a blank white, nodded in agreement, just as he had been nodding ever since his sash of vials (along with the rest of his clothes) went missing. Ink was the agreeable sort most days, but he never said 'no' to _anything_ when he was off his paints. The emptiness inside him was disquieting to most of the others in the house, and even Dream found it a tad unpleasant, but without a soul to affect, Dream had little power over Ink and could not help him in the usual manner.

Keeping him occupied, keeping him company, keeping him safe, those were the limits of what Dream could do. It pained him, but he would make the best of it until those paints of his were retrieved.

"I do so wish there was more I could do for you, my dearest friend," Dream lamented, stroking the cheek that had a perpetual inkstain on it. Ink leaned into his palm. "When I find a way to get you your own soul, we will be one step closer to Happily Ever After. And then I can seed you properly." The last comment was offhand, but a hope Dream had. Ink was a wonderful friend and partner. He'd make for lovely soil for the hopes of the future.

"For now... how to keep you occupied... hmm..." Dream circled Ink. His friend wore the bright gold maid dress (accented with a pink apron and lace, a variant on the classical black and white ensemble since Dream knew how Ink detested black-and-white anything, and if Dream's mating colors made him happy – or would have if he were capable – then who was Dream to deny him?) rather well, the bright colors standing out on his grey and white and black bones. Dream fixed a bit of lace that was out of place, and hugged Ink from behind. "You cannot want anything except your paint like this, but... oh, how about you don't do anything? Then you can help me and I can get some less fun work done."

Ink nodded, slow and uncaring. Dream hummed, hooking his head over Ink's shoulder. Ink was a bit taller than Dream, but he could stand on his tip toes and manage well enough. Dream liked that about him.

"Ok. Come, let's go to my desk."

Ink nodded again, already letting Dream guide him. His skirts swished around his knees, sometimes teasing a peak at his dark grey femurs. The gold lace of his forearm gloves stood out against that same dark grey on his radii and ulnae. Dream could just make out a few of the delicate black tattoos and crack on his clavicle. Ink was a very different creature from most of the others Dream knew. It was refreshing in a way.

Dream moved his desk chair aside, and carefully arranged Ink into position, in a sort of crab-walk stance, with Ink's pelvis up in the air. Dream sat down, using Ink as a chair, assuring he wouldn't go wandering off without him noticing (the last thing Dream needed was Ink wandering off in that eery, quiet stumbling of his and getting himself hurt, or lost, or only stars knows what else).

For a while, that was all Dream did, just sat there and worked on (boring) paperwork, supply lists and requests to adjust the structure of the house, add a room, expand a room, change the yard. The supply runs were things Dream could accomplish himself, but it was Ink who was the landlord, the one who could make such changes. Dream sorted through the ones that looked the most profitable (what would make everyone the most happy, or were most necessary) and set the rest aside to be recorded and maybe taken up later, when Ink had more time and energy for them. He did not want to overwork his friend more than necessary, and his ink vials were a finite resource, constantly needing refilled. Dream wouldn't ask Ink to take on a bigger project than he could reasonably handle.

Ink was Dream's friend, after all.

Dream lingered over a request for gardening supplies, the notes mentioned something about spring. Dream thumbed over the word, thoughts wandering. He looked over to his calendar, and his breath hitched. Spring would be upon them soon, it was true.

And spring meant his _season_.

...Actually, now that he thought about it, he was feeling a bit strange. Wanting to touch others more, thinking of _seeding_... Dream flexed his wings, checking the leaves that feathered them. Sure enough, he found some of them starting to turn, spots of pink here and there.

He would need to ask Ink to make a solitary confinement room for him, so he could keep himself in isolation when it finally hit. Spring was so inconvenient.

That was when Dream noticed something peculiar happening. His seat was getting warmer. Dream looked down, finding a pink and golden light pooling between his legs, under Ink's skirt. Dream turned, looking at Ink carefully. He could sense very little from Ink, but it seemed that Ink was siphoning energy from him. Dream's energy wasn't perfectly compatible with Ink by any stretch (a fact Dream deeply regretted), but he still held some sway. Compared to Ink's paints, Dream's essence was diluted and 'watery', whatever that meant. Now, however, it seemed to be enough to give Ink something, even if he was still largely numb.

Something was better than nothing, and Dream was going to give whatever he could.

Stretching a muscle he usually kept secret, Dream extended a single tendril, one of his vines, which shimmered in golden light. The dew that dripped from it was a mixture of gold and pink, another sign his season was approaching. Dream eased the tip into Ink's mouth, letting him drink from it. Ink didn't move more than his jaw, remaining perfectly still, ideal furniture. He sucked hard, however, desperate, and the force of it sent shivers up and down Dream's spine.

Soon the heat that was radiating from Ink culminated in a bulge, pink and gold to match Dream. Dream shifted to free it from Ink's borrowed clothes, flipping the skirt and then pulling down the silken pink panties that went with the outfit and letting the thoughtful shaft stand upright. Dream resumed his seat, clenching his legs together around his friend's shaft and grinding his own bulge against it.

He really was approaching his season. Definitely.

Dream tried to keep working (he had a few more files to look through, including some furniture orders, some supply requests from Sci for more research materials and new clothes (somehow Sci's keep getting ripped or burned, mostly in what were written off as lab accidents), seeds, holiday decorations...

Dream's lap was becoming damp. He looked down to see Ink had drenched the both of them in pre, mostly thanks to Dream's hips continuing to gyrate. As he watched, a thick spurt of pink and gold was ejected from the tip, staining Dream's clothes and hitting him in the face. Ink's climax had been... beautiful, honestly.

Dream wondered if he would look as beautiful as his true self. Or perhaps, he would look better. Dream could hope.

There was a knock at his door. "Who is it?" Dream called, although he was still distracted by the fact that Ink was under him and aroused by his magic and so pretty-

"Just me, broski. Mind if I come in?" Fresh's voice came.

"Now is not a good time," Dream said.

"...Then I'll just leave Inky-brah's stuff out here, ok?"

Dream got up, uncaring of the mess he had made of himself inadvertently, and cracked the door open. He took Ink's things through the crack, smiling. "Thank you for returning them, Fresh. I'll make sure Ink gets them immediately."

"No pro-blemo, Dream-y-o," Fresh jivved, before wheeling away on his wheelies.

Dream closed the door again, then knelt on the floor by Ink and then cracked open the yellow vial. He carefully pulled his vine free, and then poured a little bit (too much could hurt him, he didn't want to hurt his friend) into Ink's mouth.

At first, seemingly nothing happened. Slowly, however, the pretty yellow color seeped into Ink's eyelights, shaping them into stars. Ink crumpled from his stiff position, gasping for air. "D-dream??"

"I am here, my friend, I did not leave you," Dream assured. "Look, Fresh returned your things! Although..." Dream took a closer look. "Some of the vials seem more empty than I remember... But we can go together to refill them."

Ink snatched the sash of paints, nuzzling it, before cracking open each one (except pink, purple, black, and white), to sip enough to get a solid, usable mixture inside him. Dream knew he was well again when Ink's shoulders relaxed, he sat up properly, and was cognizant enough to realized the state he was in.

"Uh, Dream? Why am I dressed like a doll, and why is my dick out?"

Dream blushed. "You were wandering around a bit bare, so I grabbed the most colorful thing I could find to dress you in. And... I was trying to keep you comfortable, but you tend to wander, so I sat on you while I worked so I wouldn't lose you. And one thing led to another..."

Ink looked down at himself, then back up to Dream. "You're pretty pink there, huh? Well. Might as well finish. Wanna help me out?"

Dream felt that warmth seep through him, fluffing his wings happily to wrap around his dear friend, and pull him closer. "I would be delighted, Ink."

So Dream leaned in, nuzzling Ink's face and giving a soft, loving kiss. He wanted all the positivity in the world for Ink. All of it. And he would do his damnedest to give it to him.

Reaching down with one hand, Dream carefully gripped Ink's still stiff length, admiring how the color had changed to a prismatic radiance of nearly every color (blue and purple were missing, but that was fine: blue made his darling Ink sad, so he didn't need it). Dream was still of the mind that pink and gold suited Ink best, but he had to admit the red and green and orange weren't unattractive. Dream traced the line of blurred gradation where yellow met green, tracing it up in a spiral to the still damp, weeping tip, where he made circular motions and watched with rapt attention as Ink bucked and cursed as vividly as his magic. Dream muttered a soft chastisement of, "Language, dearest," before sliding his hand down to stroke lovingly, sweetly. He sped up at gradual increments, keeping his eyes on Ink's face again, watching his eyelights flicker between stars and hearts and exclamation points until he again felt the sticky dampness of Ink's release splatter them both.

Of course, Dream didn't stop. He didn't even let himself slow down, although his arm was starting to cramp. He never wanted Ink to stop feeling good, being happy.

If this made him happy, Dream would do it anytime.

"D-dream~!!" Ink slumped into Dream, panting as though he had been in a fight, nuzzling Dream's neck. His face was also showing that marvelous splash of color.

Dream brought his other hand up to stroke at the tears coming from Ink's sockets. "Does it feel good?"

Ink crooned, "_fuck,_ yes it-"

Dream kissed him, continuing to stroke him, to make him keep feeling good. He'd give Ink all the love in the world. His darling Ink.

Dream made a point to keep going until Ink passed out in his arms, in his embrace, trembling and spent. The both of them were drenched in his magic, orgasm after orgasm ripped insistently out of him until he could stand no more. Dream pulled his hand away to lick it mostly clean, then shifted to pull Ink entirely into his lap.

Curling his wings tighter around them both, Dream settled in to enjoy the moment, of holding his dearest in his arms and feeling the evanescent pride that, at least this time, he had succeeded in keeping his loved one safe and happy.


	17. Day 16: Quality Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Nipple Play | Frottage | Body Worship | Sixty-nine  
**Kinks:** Frottage | Body Worship | Sixty-nine | Licking | Fellatio | Scars  
**Pairing:** Krumping (Underfell!Sans / Dancetale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity
> 
> Lust is away so Dance only has Red to abuse. Softly. With affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.2k of a ship i surprised myself with and loved instantly

Lust was gone on a little brotherly bonding trip with Pink, leaving Red and Dance alone in the house. Red was excited: He would get to spend the weekend doing some cleaning and laundry without Lust giving him the sad puppy eyes he always seemed to give when Red did more housework than him. He'd get the vacuuming done, and change the sheets, and give the walls a nice wipe down, and fluff the pillows, and clean the bath tub, and then maybe after all of that he can catch up on his reading.

Red was just starting to give the stove a good clean (wiping away grease stains and discolorations), when he felt Dance come home. "welcome home kitt'n," he called, not looking over his shoulder. "dinners gonna be a bit late but there's some snacks in th' fridge t' tide ya over."

"snacks? cool, i-" Dance called back, coming in to presumably partake of said treats (a strawberry shortcake and some watermelon cubes Red had squirreled away for him), when Dance cut off, stopping dead in the doorway. His _weariness_ and _relief_ was cut to an abrupt halt, replaced sharply by _arousal_ and _love_, ripping down Red's spine. "mmm, think i'l make my own snack..." Dance murmured, coming with a slow, deliberate pace.

Red didn't think much of it until he heard it, the peal of that bell, which traveled in a wave down his spine and right to his pelvis, snapping his magic into place with the unpredictable speed of a pavlovian response. He felt Dance get closer, using his arms to box Red in against the stove from behind. Red shivered, starting to sweat under the khakis and button up he'd worn to work that day. The pants were much tighter, and less forgiving to his summoned assets.

Dance ground against Red's ass, working his own bulge of heat and electricity, but he also wrapped his one hand around to stroke at Red's dick through his pants. "don't mind me," dance murmured, voice low and raw in that way Red knew was a warning.

Red swallowed, trying to focus again on his cleaning, but the slow, intense drag of Dance's hand had his breath hitch and his thighs quiver. Heat was starting to suffuse Red at a rapid rate, as it always seemed to when Dance or Lust touched him, clouding his mind with promises of love and affection and his pets being satisfied. It took most of his willpower to shake himself out of it long enough to get back to cleaning, but a few more strokes and squeezes from Dance had his work going right to autopilot, the rest of him driven to distraction by the ache between his legs and the wet heat being ground into his backside.

"i never get tired of coming home and seeing you like this," Dance admitted. "only thing better is when lust is involved... but wow... it never ceases to amaze how _good you look_ dressed up like this..." He gave Red's dick a pointed squeeze. "just a shame i gotta share the view with everyone else..."

Red choked down a whimper, trying not to squirm. How long had he been scrubbing this corner? He couldn't quite recall. He switched to the other side, stretching to get the back of the rearmost lip where splatter kept collecting. He felt his hips start to rock, whimpering as the pressure built more. _His pants really weren't made to fit him with ecto, there wasn't any breathing room!_

"hey," Dance purred, ringing his bell with a soft shake of his head (making Red's dick throb), "think you got it clean enough, come to bed with me?"

Red dropped his rag, taking a desperate gasp. "k."

Dance purred, gripping Red by the dick and pulling him away from the stove, bubbling with _want_ and _excitement_ as he guided Red to the bedroom. He kept making little circles with his thumb, feather touches with the pants in the way. 

Red knew the drill, sitting down on the bed and laying back so Dance could crawl into his lap.

Dance did, straddling Red's spine and gripping him defiantly by the collar to pull him into a kiss. Red wrapped his arms around Dance's waist, shivering at the sheer weight of his emotion, of his want. Red still didn't know what it was about him that inspired it. Whatever made his pet happy, of course, but he would probably always wonder after the why.

_Fuck, his dick ached._

Dance scratched lightly at Red's skull, nuzzling down to nip at his jaw, and then move the collar carefully aside to bite at his neck. Red's vision stuttered like the view behind a camera shutter, and another chunk of his cognitive functions was submerged in white static, heat, and the overpowering sense of his boyfriend's affection.

Humming, _pleased_ with himself, Dance pulled back to look Red over, carefully, slowly working at the buttons of his shirt, savoring the unwrapping of what he saw as his gift. "that's it. you good bein' my snack, kitten? color?"

"or'nge," Red responded automatically. _Anything for his kitten. Anything for his pet._

"good to hear," Dance purred, finally getting Red's shirt open, sliding the shoulders off just enough so that, unless Red wanted to rip it, he couldn't really move his arms without getting up. It left Red's ribcage open to the air, a startling contrast compared to the heat that had been slowly building.

Dance ran a careful, _loving_ (and Red couldn't pretend that love wasn't for him, not when Lust was away and Dance was looking at him with such intensity) finger along Red's clavicle, catching on a few shallow scraps and brushing the scratches he'd gotten from a temmie fight. The intent from that feather-light stroke dropped into him through the callouses and open scars like a rock into an open well, quietly punching the breath out of him, leaving a trail of heat and sensitivity and pleasure behind.

"you're beautiful," Dance murmured, curving his hand's trajectory to slide it down Red's sternum, stroking along the crisscross of cuts that marred what would have been smooth bone. "body and soul."

Red looked away, feeling a different kind of heat in his cheekbones. He didn't want Dance trying to flatter him with empty words. Red wasn't one to care about how his body looked (bones could only ever be so appealing when they were chopped to hell, and he wasn't ashamed of winning every fight he ever got into), but his _soul_ was an ugly, crusty thing, and wasn't worth mentioning.

Dance snapped his fingers, before catching Red's chin. The _annoyance_ was evident in the set of his jaw. "don't you dare think otherwise," he growled.

Red smirked up at him. _His adorable, mercurial <strike>mate</strike>, pet, kitten:_ Red still couldn't figure out how he got so lucky, how he scored the jackpot without even cheating. "whatever ya say, kitt'n." Even if it was objectively horseshit.

Dance snorted, thumbing at Red's teeth. "still don't believe me? guess words never get through to ya, huh, asshole?" He leaned in for a kiss, shoving his love into Red roughly. When he pulled back again, leaving Red to blink stars from his sight, Dance scooted back just enough to again grind at Red's still imprisoned groin.

Red threw his head back, choking off the groan a hair too late.

"i'll just have to make you listen," Dance decided out loud, before scooting up again and moving one side of Red's shirt down a little further, curling his fingers around Red's favorite scar (the one Dance had given him).

Red could only chuckle nervously before Dance's tongue began its slow, worshipful pilgrimage over every little scar Red had in reach. Red couldn't have kept himself still no matter how hard he tried. He had no defenses for it, no resistance, somehow what Dance did to him was blindingly potent and raw and irresistible, and Red was left to fight a losing battle that he wouldn't really mind losing in the end.

The fact the fucking bell kept chiming, sweet and persistent, did very little to help Red's state.

Dance murmured to him between each path his tongue took. "thats right. such a good boy. good for me. you'll let me do anything won't you, kitten? you'll give me anything, right?"

Red could see there was color and light and Dance's smile, but the world was a kaleidoscope, jumbled and confusing. He could only blink, and nod, and hope that was enough to please his pet.

The little pulse of _satisfaction_ quelled his concern, lulling him further into that soft, warm place where the world was only him and the ones he loved.

"there you go, kitten," Dance's voice came again, the only thing that Red could still understand besides the aching pleasure and affection being raked unforgivingly over his body and soul. "just relax for me-" and Red did, although it only made him squirm more, his spine grinding against the sheets (when did he go from sitting to laying? he didn't even know) while his pelvis occasionally thrust up into the air, his dick trying to find something, anything to satisfy it. "-and let me take care of you for once. you're mine too, you know. _mine_-" and Dance punctuated that with a soft scratch into the scar on Red's arm, sending a stronger wave of heat through him to curl his toes and wrench out a pathetic whine.

"color?" The gentlest question.

"o-or'nge," Red mumbled, slurred and damp. His tongue felt heavy and thick, his mouth flooded. He felt sticky and damp all over, but his sight was flooded in color and he couldn't see- couldn't see-

Dance's hand, cool and soothing, cupped Red's cheek. "see? you're beautiful." There was something in those words, and in the bond, a _hunger_ and a _humility_ and a _vindication_, the voice of a man reveling in catharsis, and it belonged in Dance, a piece of him that would leave him incomplete if it ceased to be.

Red nuzzled that hand.

"gonna change position, kitten," Dance warned, before pulling his hand away.

The next thing Red knew, it was darker, and a prominent blue glow was close in front of him, the scent of salt and musk and damp clothing in the air. Moments later, Red couldn't help the moan of relief as his dick was finally freed, his pants unzipped. Careful, _worshipful_ hands cradled it, massaging the tender, abused flesh, before something soft and warm and wet ran along the length.

Red felt like he was melting: he couldn't have kept quiet if he tried.

Soon Red was engulfed, swallowed in that familiar, blissful heat and wet that he knew was Dance's mouth. Dance's own moans ran through him, only adding to the sensation of mind numbing pleasure.

For once, however, the situation was different. This time, maybe Red could return the favor. He couldn't see very well still, sight a blur of color, but he could smell and feel the heat of Dance's magic close to him. He leaned up, nuzzling, before carefully (_he had to be careful, he had to be careful, he couldn't ever hurt his kitten, never never never_) using his teeth to drag Dance's pants down, freeing _his_ cock. Still, carefully (_careful, careful, careful, he loved him he had to be careful_-) Red guided it into his mouth, keeping his jaw open painfully wide to prevent scratching him.

Dance moaned, _surprised_ beyond reason. Then Red felt that _competitive_ streak of his, and suddenly Red was being used like a straw: sucked, licked, drained, lightly bitten and swallowed around hard.

Red came violently, screaming with it. Something thick and fragrant shot down his throat, almost choking him before he started to swallow desperately. Everything seemed to happen at once: the pressure, the heat, the taste, the feedback of _pleasure_. The blinding heat and electric wave dragged on, longer and longer, until everything went black.

* * *

Dance pulled off of Red's dick, licking his teeth and purring. He had to carefully, delicately move his hips so he didn't hurt or choke Red, moving to turn around and look at his datemate. Red was a work of art, as usual, although this time there was blue dripping out of his mouth.

Dance sighed, wiping the rivulet from Red's chin with a fond shiver. He hadn't expected Red to try and reciprocate. He'd had plans to bring his soul out and give it some direct love for once, but with Red worn out, he supposed that would have to wait until tomorrow.

Pleased none the less, Dance got up to get some damp clothes and clean his lover up quietly. He removed the soiled clothes and put a warm, soft blanket over Red, nuzzling his skull. Red coughed a bit, bringing a bit of blue back up that Dance wiped away again, before kissing him to slowly, gently lick away the last of it. Red purred, and after being given one of Lust's pillows to cuddle, settled deeper into sleep.

A post coital nap would do wonders for Red, and it would give Dance time to make dinner for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> red is a happy kitten and dance is a happy kitten and they'll gave a nice long warm bath to cuddle in later
> 
> dance had every intention of just coming home and falling asleep watching food wars but red was in his work clothes and that means he needs to suck his dick and make sure nobody else did (except lust, lust can suck red's dick. especially if dance gets to watch)


	18. Day 17: Misjudged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Masturbation | Seduction | Collaring | Orgasm Denial  
**Kinks:** Masturbation | Seduction | Collaring | Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Swapfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; implied/referenced jealousy; implied/referenced cuckolding
> 
> Lust is suffering and misses his sweetheart. Razz wanna smash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.1k of a hypothetical way for resonance! Lust and Razz to get along

Lust lay on his couch, sighing despondently. Red was in a mood lately, thanks to some ugly business at home (it wasn't another fight with Edge, thank stars, instead it had to do with some sort of riot that was going on longer than usual), which left Lust lonely and frustrated, and bored, and did he mention _frustrated?_ Lust hadn't gotten off properly in a week, and while he'd been fucked regularly, not a single orgasm had been the least bit satisfying.

Lust had told Pink to stay with TonTon until he gave the all clear, not wanting to expose his brother to his own spontaneous fits, which, coincidentally, were him dropping whatever he was doing when the itch proved too much to lay on the couch and rub a few dozen off. Lust had stopped bothering with pants, instead walking around in a fluffy pink bath robe that was covered in suspicious splotches of off-colored purple here and there. He'd untied it and currently had his hand stroking desperately at his dick.

Lust clutched at the pillow he had behind his head, back arched and legs spread as he worked his hand roughly on his overly stimulated member. He brought his hand down to tug on his collar, tears pricking at his sockets at the pang of loneliness that came with the sharp flare of pleasure, and almost-

There was a knock on his door. Lust dropped like a marionette with his strings cut, unable to hold in the nameless noise of frustration and desperation. He wiped the pre on his hand off on his robe, wrapping himself tight in it without bothering to tie the rope off, and yanked the door open.

Lust's bad mood was only exacerbated by the face he saw on the other side.

Razz smirked, holding out a single red rosebud. "I HAVE HEARD YOU REQUIRE ASSISTANCE."

Lust looked first at the flower, then at the giver. "our plumbing and refrigerator are both fine, thank you."

Razz only stiffened for a brief moment, his smile tight and frozen, before clearing his throat and relaxing again. "THAT IS A RELIEF TO HEAR, BUT I WAS REFERRING TO YOUR NEED FOR A CERTAIN RELIEF."

"oh, that?" Lust smiled sweetly. "then there is~ something you can help me with~"

"REALLY?"

"oh yes~" Lust purred. Then he slammed the door and said, "go away," before going back to the couch and flopping down.

For a moment, Lust thought he was going to be alone again, but the door opened from the outside and Razz came in, kicking snow off his boots. "DO NOT BE THAT WAY. I ONLY WANT TO PROVIDE MY ASSISTANCE."

"i need something that's going to turn me on, so..."

"EXACTLY. AND I AM VERY GOOD AT THAT."

Lust kept his disbelief on that statement unspoken, but given the uncertainty that crept over Razz' face, his expression made it clear.

Razz offered the rose again, shaking off whatever doubt he might have had to show Lust an admittedly attractive smirk. "GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES, AND I ASSURE YOU THAT YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT."

Lust scrutinized him, considering. He could say no. He could throw Razz out on his ass. He could. Instead, he reached out to take the rose and sighed. "five minutes. safeword is pineapple. i will throw you if i have to."

Razz smirked, coming closer. "DULY NOTED." He straddled Lust's lap and tilted his chin up to look him in the eye. "HARD NOS?"

"loli, scat, omorashi, and..." Lust hesitated on the last one, looking to one side in some pointless venture to avoid thinking about why. "...electricity."

"EXCELLENT." Razz purred, before stealing a kiss.

Lust brought his hands up to push him off, but stopped himself. He clawed at Razz's armor, annoyed he couldn't fist it.

Razz used one hand to pull out a pair of cuffs, soft leather with a cord bisecting them. He pulled Lust's wrists together and fastened them so, then pinned them over Lust's head using a few bones he stuck in the top of the couch.

When Razz broke the kiss, he also slid off Lust's lap, looking Lust up and down.

Lust sighed, wondering how it was everyone wanted him to sub, squirming to both test his bonds and get comfortable. His robe fell open, showing that he was bare and shimmering in sweat, his dick stiff and still aching.

Razz opened his robe more, trailing his claws along Lust's ribs as he inspected him. "YOU REALLY ARE AN ATTRACTIVE CREATURE. SUCH A SHAME THAT A DEGENERATE ALREADY COLLARED YOU." Razz reached up to tug on Lust's collar pointedly.

Red's magic responded explosively, potent and territorial and jealous. Razz didn't flinch, but Lust saw white. His hips bucked up as he moaned, trembling with it. How he managed to pull himself out of a near faint was beyond him, especially while that acute pleasure was still going on.

When Lust finally managed to blink back his sight (blurry from overstimulated tears as it was), Razz had starry eyelights and a smile. "OH, YOU LIKE THAT DO YOU?" He tugged again.

Lust couldn't have kept his voice down if he tried, writhing as he was hit again with another burst of his mate's essence.

"YOU LIKE QUITE A LOT," Razz purred gleefully. He pulled off one of his gloves, gripping Lust's dick firmly and pushing his intent and magic in.

For Lust, it wasn't Red, but the feel of it, of LV-fueled intent to please, brought him to the most satisfying orgasm he's had in a week.

Razz purred, stroking slow and gentle and drawing it out as he gave a third tug to Lust's precious collar. "I SEE. YOU HAVE AN LV KINK. PERVERT. IS THAT WHY YOU FUCKED MY BROTHER TOO?" He doesn't sound upset, more amused and fond and pleased. "WELL DO NOT WORRY. I HAVE PLENTY TO SHARE WITH YOU."

Lust hadn't considered that he might just like the cold of LV. He'd never been embarrassed at having a kink pointed out about him before. Oddly enough, he was this time, squirming and trying to hide his face in his own shoulder for a moment, just a moment, to gather his composure. He felt saliva drip down his chin to stain his robe.

He felt his own cum drip down his ribs.

Razz leaned in, biting at Lust's neck and licking along his jaw. "ITS BEEN FIVE MINUTES. SHOULD I KEEP GOING?"

Lust took a shuddered breath. "..you know what..?" God, his voice sounded raw even to his ears. "lets take this to the shed."

Razz smirked, unpinning Lust's wrists from the couch, pulling his robe closed and scooping him up bridal style. "IS IT UNLOCKED?"

"yeah."

"EXCELLENT." Razz carried him out, holding Lust close to shield him as best he could from the wind. Lust thought maybe he had judged Razz too harshly: he was being far more gentle than he expected.

He still missed Red, but Razz wasn't the most terrible company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and when red got his time off back again he fucked lust into the nearest flat surface, and they all lived happily ever after


	19. Day 18: Error in Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Fucking Machine | Latex | Role Reversal | Xenophilia  
**Kinks:** Fucking Machine | Latex | Role Reversal | Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Underswap!Sans / Error  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; bad characterization
> 
> Error lets Blue drive for once and regrets he doesnt regret it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1k of fucking garbage this isnt even good characterization >.<

Error struggled blindly against his bonds, flinching at the sound of his full body latex suit stretching to accommodate. He breathed in sharply from the air hole over his nasal aperture, squirming at the strangeness of it all. It was tight, nothing like his usual loose fitting outfit at all, and moving increased the pressure on his body in other places. Besides his breathing hole, he knew there was only one other opening: his ass, leaving his hole accessible while keeping his dick tightly pressed. Moving his legs in any way only increased the pressure on his groin, just as moving his arms seemed to increase the pressure on his ribs.

His wrists and ankles were chained in strategic positions, keeping his legs spread and his arms over his head, but there was plenty of room to squirm without getting misaligned.

"COMFORTABLE?" Blue asked. Error couldn't see him, since the suit kept his sockets covered as well, but the single string he had tied around Blue's pinkie let him know where he was, by his side.

Error nodded.

"GOOD. THREE TUGS IS YOUR TAP OUT. I'M GOING TO TURN IT ON NOW." Blue sounded excited.

As well he should be. Error didn't let people do things to him lightly. Or at all. Usually it was Blue strung up, clothes in disarray as Error's strings crisscrossed over his bones and soul, stroking and squeezing until he was a sobbing mess, begging for release.

Today, it was Error. Just to see how he felt about it.

The machine whirled to life around him. At first, Error didn't notice any change, then the end of the dildo extension was slowly eased into his ass, stretching him open with shallow thrusts. Error's legs twitched involuntarily, squeezing his dick in the process.

"OH! THAT WAS A NICE NOISE!!" Blue purred from a little to one side. Error felt the pressure of his hand settle on his ribcage, rubbing teasingly over the intercostal spaces, making the latex rub against the ridges and stretch. "YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS ALREADY!!"

Error would have snarled, _'No I'm not, fuck you!'_ if he were able, but any noise he could have made would have been muffled and distorted, first by his own glitching, and again by the latex keeping his mouth (and the majority of the rest of him) sealed.

The dildo extension eased in a little deeper, the stretch and friction making Error arch his back. His member throbbed hot in its increasingly tight prison. Error made a strangled noise that he couldn't believe came out of him.

"THAT GOOD HUH?" Blue mused, his hand coming up to rub at Error's neck and shoulder. "JUST RELAX. TODAY YOU WILL BE WELL TAKEN CARE OF BY THE MAGNIFICENT SANS!! MWEH HEH HEH!!"

_That should have been a boner-killer._ What did it say about Error that it wasn't?

The dildo crept deeper and deeper still. Error felt small bumpy ridges along one side. He wondered at first why it was only on that one side until they reached a certain depth and pressed into a bundle of nerves that sent lighting up and down his spine. Error shouted at the surprise spike in stimulation. He felt the inside of his suit start to get uncomfortably sticky. The way his legs twitched, it only tightened the grip on his dick, making it harder to cum even as he was marched closer to the precipice of release.

When the toy was finally hilted, Error sucked in a deep breath, quelling his shaking.

"OK! THATS THE INTRO!! NOW FOR THE REAL PERFORMANCE!" Blue snickered.

The sound of another switch hit Error like a slap, sending shivers down his spine all on its own.

The little bumps on the dildo began to vibrate. Individually. One pressed incessantly on that bundle of nerves, buzzing against it. Error contorted as far back as he seemed able to go (as much as the suit would allow), tearing up and screaming in- _not pleasure, of course not, it had to be outrage-!!_

He shook through what should have been an orgasm, but which raged through him without the satisfaction of release, leaving him oversensitive and needy.

Then the dildo began to move, grinding those buzzing bumps relentlessly on his sensitive nerves while also churning up his magic. Heat boiled up from the tips of his hallux to the top of his head, curling his toes and making his whole body shake.

Why did Error ever agree to this? Why didn't he agree to this sooner? He couldn't answer either question, riding another wave of restricted pleasure as the machine only fucked into him harder with each passing minute.

* * *

Blue stood at Error's side, knowing his eyelights had to be either stars or hearts (and who knew which without looking). Error was a writhing mess, constrained by his latex suit and moaning and screaming freely as he was mercilessly pegged. The bulge in his groin had only gotten bigger. Blue let his hand settle over it, stroking and rubbing it in a way he knew wouldn't be doing Error any favors, but which made him sing so sweetly.

Error looked amazing, squirming in that shiny powder blue suit. Blue patted himself on the back mentally, purring. He stroked a little harder at his bedmate's imprisoned erection. The suit was seamless save for the back zipper, so there was no way to free it without cutting a hole, but teasing it was still an option.

Blue put in a bit more pressure, and purred when he heard Error's noises pitch upward almost a whole octave! He let go, which only prompted Error to add sound of indignation along with his sinful peals.

"THE SUIT ONLY COMES OFF AFTER YOU'RE DONE WITH THE MACHINE," Blue reminded him. _Then, he should be good and ready to be Blue's personal sex machine, all arousal and frustration._ Blue sat down, pulling out his own member to stroke it lazily. He would be patient. He could wait. An hour? Two? Three? All the better. It would be worth the reward.


	20. Day 19: Meanwhile, Also at the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Public | Formal Wear | Straitjacket | Cock-Warming  
**Kinks:** Public | Formal Wear | Straitjacket | Cock-Warming | Orgasm Denial | Voyeurism  
**Pairing:** Curtain Call (Reapertale!Sans / After!Dance!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; too short;
> 
> Whats going on around the same time as [Day 11: Public Affection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/49901081), on the other side of the room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~600 words of... well. crap XD

Dance had never been to a party like this before: he'd already seen someone in a fallen angel cosplay making out with the minecraft guy, hot and heavy and _sinful_. Before that, the kigurumi guys had been taking turns giving head while the other munched on the _haunted brownies_ (those two needed a proper dom to watch over them, they were going to get themselves in trouble if someone didn't step in, no matter how cute they were together). He hadn't known what to expect, but given the wide range of costumes and levels of sexual tension, he was pleased with his choices for the evening.

Now, however, Dance was enjoying his date for the evening more than his small stint at voyeurism.

"enjoying yourself, kitten?" Dance asked, grinning. He ran his hands over his mate's hips, which were covered in the bright orange of a convicts jumpsuit. One hand slid up, rubbing at the bit of midriff right under the end of the straight jacket his mate was wearing, keeping his arms rightly bound over his chest no matter how he squirmed.

Which, as Dance nuzzled the space between his mate's shoulder-blades, was quite a lot. Reaper made a muffled noise from behind the gag in his mouth, hidden from view by the mask on his face.

_Dance had gone out of his way to find and compose an outfit that would keep Reaper from coming in contact with anyone, so he could enjoy the party without fear of any accidents._ The best part of the outfit, however, was the buttflap, because it meant Reaper could be his pretty little cock warmer all night and have no one be the wiser. Reaper squeezed around him perfectly, staving off the chill and keeping Dance in a very good mood.

"i'm glad," Dance replied, nuzzling. The hand on his hip slid between his mate's squirming legs, gripping and stroking through his suit to tease the stiff member begging for attention. There were a few bullets tied to it, vibrating gently to keep Reaper excited and alert to Dance's every move. "i'm really glad we came. it's good to socialize sometimes..."

Reaper moaned, muffled and desperate, bouncing gently for just a little more stimulation.

"hey," Dance warned, tightening his grip around Reaper's middle. "don't go getting excited so soon. we've only been here for two hours."

Reaper whined, wiggling in his lap, squeezing Dance deliciously.

Dance pulled Reaper back, still groping him with one hand while the other rubbed his belly. "shh, dove, relax. just wait until the party's over. only a few more hours. can ya wait?"

Reaper groaned. He tapped the pattern for 'all good' that they had agreed on, giving Dance another squeeze. The tap shoes Dance had suggested worked wonders to make the noise clear for him.

Dance bit gently at Reaper's neck. "good job."

Reaper leaned into the bite, moaning and whimpering as he came so close to orgasm again, only to fall short.

Dance chuckled. He tucked his head over Reaper's shoulder, watching as a gogo dancer came and sat down with what had to be his dom (Dance didn't recognize either of them, but maybe he could get some names later – that gangster looked like he had a lot of preferences in common with him), before said dom left. Reaper must have noticed them too, since the moment that pretty dancer started squirming, Reaper did also.

"what is it, kitten?" Dance murmured, squeezing Reaper's thigh. "seeing someone else suffer with you a turn on?"

Another moan from Reaper as he clenched around him again, before turning his head to rub the back of his skull against Dance's shoulder.

Dance chuckled. "glad you're having fun," he cooed, kissing his shoulder.

He knew it was going to be a long night for Reaper, but Dance was honestly just glad to have him in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continues in [Day 29: Afterparty Aftercare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50525612)


	21. Day 20: Faulty Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Urophagia | Hot-Dogging | Emeto | Dirty talk  
**Kinks:** Emeto | Dirty talk | Bondage | Kissing | Foreplay | Biting  
**Pairing:** Error / Ink  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;
> 
> Ink catches Error post predator-play and talks him through some fantasies, knocking a few synapses back into place in Error's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.7k of boring one-sided conversation

"You're kind of a slut, huh?" Ink asks in the same way he always talks, like the sky is blue and water is wet, like it's a beautiful day outside and birds are singing and flowers are blooming. He's cheerful and painfully honest and yet still so excited, as though it is his first time.

Perhaps to Ink, it is. Error never knows just how much he remembers of any one interaction. Perhaps he remembers nothing, and his hands and magic move on muscle memory alone. Perhaps he remembers everything, yet he still fills himself with the same wonder and delight as the first time.

Ink has a taste of the purple paint vial that Error has only ever seen him use when they are alone, and Ink has won. His eyelights shift to a star and a heart (both purple) before flickering back through his usual hues and shapes. "The way you turn colors, how you move, you're enjoying yourself aren't you?" Ink practically giggles. "What a freak~"

Error was squirming, trying to pull his hands and feet free of the colorful paints trapping him on the ground. It was powerful, and stretchy, and even his strength seems to be insufficient to escape it. The fact Ink has used this particular technique on him incites a pavlovian response in him, making his magic burn and roil, surging to his pelvis like magma.

Error can just tap out, but that would be too easy. _He is going to beat that abomination on his own. It was a matter of pride._

Ink strides forward, standing with his feet on either side of Error's lumbar. "It's getting easier to catch ya, you know. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to be caught~" Ink leans down, legs still straight but distractingly limber all the same, and strokes Error's cheek gently with the back of his knuckles. "You like this? You like it when I have you helpless and at my mercy?"

Error spits, pleased when the damp splat hits its mark on Ink's cheek, opposite the perpetual ink splotch that always came back no matter how many times it was washed off. "F-fF-f-FUcK yOu!!" He snarls as menacingly as he can. He certainly doesn't _like_ having Ink stand over him, looking like an apex predator about to pounce on his latest meal, no, of course not.

Ink does not flinch at the attack, instead grinning wider. "Want to exchange spit already? Okay." Ink gets on his knees, gripping Error's chin. His hand isn't rough, but Error can not pull his face away. Soon his vision (which is not the best to begin with) is filled with nothing but the sight of Ink, magnanimous and infuriatingly attractive in his otherness. When Ink presses his teeth to Error's, there's a moment Error can choose to grit his teeth shut, to deny him. He doesn't. Error lets his teeth part, and Ink's tongue darts in to wrestle with all five of Error's, unconcerned at the differences between them.

Error's vision flickers like a broken screen, and his struggles die down. The sound that Ink coaxes out of him, like a snake charmer would a snake from a basket, is humiliating and soft. Error feels his magic come close to boiling over, before he has to let it take shape. He doesn't pay much attention to what shape his broken magic takes, since Ink is taking his _sweet god damn time_ possessively toying with each and every tongue Error has, one by one. Error can't remember how to breathe by the time Ink pulls back.

"You say you're-" Ink doubles over, turning his head to the side just enough so he doesn't spew his ink all over Error's face. Error feels the heat of it, the black liquid hitting the ground by his head hard, a few drops hitting him in the face. Ink always throws up ink when he is overexcited. It smells like real ink to Error, noxious and disorienting in such a high concentration. It is kind of weird how it only makes his own magic throb harder. -you're haphaphobic," Ink picks right back up, coughing a little before wiping his mouth and continuing on like it never happened, "but you seem to really like it when I touch you," Ink observes aloud.

Error tries to retort, but he's unsteady and his mouth feels both too full and too empty.

"I bet you would like to be touched a whole~ lot," Ink continues, looking at his scarf. His eyelights dance, and a grin splits his face. "Maybe I should call in a bit of help~"

"W-w-w-w-W-w-Whu-??" Error manages.

"Yeah!" Ink looks very pleased. "You used to be a Geno-type, right? So maybe I should call Reaper~" Ink slides his hand up Error's shirt, slow and gentle, stroking the bones discolored red and gold and black. "He's probably missing his precious Genocide~ I heard what kind of things he likes to do when he can touch people. You know what he likes?"

Error has very few memories of his life before he became himself. The reminder of Reaper, in this context, however, knocks a few connections back into place: _Error recalls a soft cooing noise, the swish of fabric, gentle hands holding him down as a chronic agony is replaced with blinding pleasure; he recalls something soft, like feathers, and how they feel under his hands and against his face; he recalls the distinct sensation of teeth in his cervical vertebrae and hands in his pelvic girdle, stirring him into a lather._ His magic gives a demanding, needy throb.

As if to encourage the fantasies (the memories), Ink keeps talking. "He likes driving his partner insane, using his hands to hold them and find their weaknesses until they're begging. Imagine, the god of death with his fingers tangled in your ribs, sliding down your spine, teasing your pelvis until you give him something to work with, and then using it to tease and taunt and make you beg for just a little death~" Ink thumbs lightly at Error's xiphoid process. "If I call him, and show him how you look right now, I bet he'll chop your clothes up with his scythe and start reacquainting himself with your body. Bet he'll use his tongue too, going up~" Ink demonstrates by dragging his fingers up Error's sternum, making Error's breath hitch as it passes across a scar that _should_ be there but just _isn't_\- "and down~ down~ down~ until he got to eat your pretty cunt~"

Error tries to will the false sensations away, but it's difficult. He hardly has any recollection of Reaper, but his body seems to still have some of its own (however corrupted it may be). He can feel his pants becoming uncomfortably damp, and he knows he's summoned a pussy this time.

"Or maybe I should call Red," Ink hummed. "You were a vanilla Sans before you were Geno, and a Sci before that, right? Red adores his vanilla as much as he does chocolate~"

Error tries not to think about _why he likes chocolate so much to begin with._ He groans in frustration when the memories come up anyway, glitchy like the rest of him, like an old VHS recording. _He recalls he warmth of being in someone's lap, of the smell of smoke and leather and mustard. He recalls kisses drenched in chocolate, of the taste on his tongue as something sharp and equally delicious bites into his neck, leaving possessive marks he cherishes for days. He recalls claws scraping over his ribs harshly, only to become gentle again against his jaw._ The memories don't have a face to them, he can't see who it is, but context and Ink's vivid descriptions paint over the corruption, and he knows.

"Red has always liked using his claws, and has this weird thing about feeding people. Heard he's a biter too~ Bet he'd rip you open, bite you up, mark you and make you like it~" Ink purrs, a background to the film reel in Error's tumultuous mind. "Bet he'd dig in just~ right~ And you'd squirm and arch into it and beg for more until he fucked you into his dirty mattress~"

Ink leans in to add to the vividness of Error's daydreams by biting down on his clavicle. Error feels himself jerk into it on reflex, gasping. His body seizes up, fragmented memories mixing and blending as Ink uses his filthy words to put the pieces back together. Error makes a humiliating noise, mouth open as he writhes. He feels his own drool slide down his jaw, and for once, the tears in his sockets aren't on the precipice of becoming weapons.

Ink sat back, grinning with infuriating triumph. "Hey. Did you just c-" He stops, gaze unfocusing as he goes stone still, his eyelights disappearing for a moment. Error takes the time to catch his breath. It isn't a long moment, and soon Ink is shaking himself and blinking back into the present. "What were we doing..?" Ink takes in Error's compromising position, his appearance, his state. He looks Error in the face, then feels his groin with one hand, eyelights dilating in delight. "Did I make you come?! I did! I-" Ink has to turn to the side again, hacking up another thick wave of his namesake a few inches from Error's hip. This time the splatter hits his ribs and spine, the heat making him thrash and squirm with a curse. "...But I'm still dressed, so... I guess we aren't anywhere near done, huh?"

Ink's hand sneaks down to finger Error, and Error's hips buck up to meet it. He's glad Ink doesn't recall his idea, since he isn't sure he would be able to face any of the others. He isn't that guy anymore. He isn't who they wanted. At least Ink won't lie to him and pretend he cares any more than Ink pretends in the first place.

For now, Error is emotionally spent, and content to let Ink use him. Ink will forget any embarrassing behavior long before Error lets him leave, so he has nothing to lose.

And Error will not think about the things Ink has inadvertently given back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could be the start of a nice poly/harem fic but i have too many wips already please brain dont do this to me
> 
> one of the few times i tried to write in present tense as opposed to past tense. i like that better for ink and error's POVs, i think.


	22. Day 21: Hanging Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Bukakke | Food play | Suspension | Branding  
**Kinks:** Bukakke | Food play | Suspension | Fellatio | Cunnilingus  
**Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Horrortale!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~1.6k
> 
> Axe gets gangbanged, sweetly, in the feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.6k of some more TRASH

Dance checked the rope one more time, circling the latest addition to their household (and their bed). "how do ya feel?"

Axe squirmed, testing. Dance could feel the _nervousness_, the _apprehension_, as he rocked on his suspensions, arms and legs kept held up as he swung, without grounding. His arms were secure both just below and just above the elbow, as well as at the wrist, to help spread the tension; his legs were likewise secured below and above the patella, as well as the ankle. As the swinging came largely to a stop, there was some underlying _trust_, but Dance was ready to lower Axe back to the bed below them at the drop of a hat.

Axe chuckled, smiling. "i'm good. don't hurt none, just kinda breezy-" given he was naked, that was understandable- "so i think i'll manage."

Dance side-eyed him. "remember your safeword?"

"its that color my eye isn't no more."

Dance scoffed. "humor me."

"k. a philosopher, a chemist, and an engineer walk into a bar-"

"axe!"

"no, the murderer won't be there for another few minutes."

Dance could feel the _amusement_ building up in the room. Lust and Red, standing off to one side, were both shaking as they tried to repress their snickers. Dance fought to keep his own face straight, but he could tell from the smug look in Axe's face that it was a losing battle. "ok. fine. just remember to use it. and if i ask for a color, you better answer or i'm ending it."

"ok." Axe flexed his hands, gripping the rope in range and then relaxing his hold.

Dance gripped Axe's chin, thumbing it. He saw Axe flex his eyelight at him, dilating and constricting. He snorted, leaning in for a kiss. "idiot. ass, pussy, and dick, if you don't mind."

Axe bulked, _uncertain_. "tall order, there."

"too much?" Dance kept his voice low and even. He didn't want Axe to think he _had_ to do something he didn't want to, or that it was a failing if he _couldn't_.

Axe swallowed, closing his sockets in _concentration_. He grit his teeth, sweating as he tried... something. A glow directed Dance's attention down, where the requested assets were now waiting. Axe let out a strained breath, quivering from exertion.

Dance gripped at his soft member, stroking and pawing at it. "good job," he purred, rewarding Axe's effort with a kiss, stealing the gasp to drink for himself. Dance made a mental note to only ask for so much sparingly.

Axe squirmed at Dance's pawing, trying and failing to close his legs to shield himself. _Embarrassment_ and _accomplishment_ warred with each other in him, and Dance used his tongue to distract him from the former.

Once Axe was calmed again, Dance pulled his mouth away and carefully wrapped a blindfold over Axe's sockets. "still good?"

"uh-huh." Axe hummed, shivering. He was half hard and faintly flushed, calm and trusting in a way that made Dance's soul pound.

"good." Dance turned around. "lust, come here."

Lust turned to give Red a soft kiss of his own, nuzzling with all the _fondness_ he had to offer before going to Dance's side. Dance guided him onto his knees, between Axe's legs. Lust situated himself, using a few pillows that Dance had left there to get comfortable.

Dance gently slid a single finger into Axe (making him gasp, and once more squirm). Dance could feel the soft warmth had begun to moisten, but wasn't yet primed. He gave a few gentle thrusts before pulling his finger out, offering it to Lust. Lust licked it, purring softly, _pleased_ and _excited_ about his assignment.

Dance then crooked a finger at Red. Red shuffled over, swallowing down _nervousness_ and _excitement_ of his own. Red got behind Axe, hanging his basket of goodies on a loop Dance had made for his convenience. He then stepped over Lust's sprawled legs with one leg, straddling. "ready over here, kitt'n," he assured.

Dance smirked. He crooked his finger again, making Red lean around Axe just enough to grab his collar and pull him into a kiss over Axe's shoulder. All of Red's warm, fuzzy feelings spiked, and when Dance let him go (licking his teeth to eek out every last shred of his taste), he was properly flushed and glowing in his joints. Dance got on his knees, leaning down to kiss Lust properly too, cradling his skull in his hands and tugging at his collar in that way he knew drove Lust wild. He could see, when he finally pulled back, the way Lust's joints were alight under his loose tshirt and yoga pants, shining through the thin fabric like it never did in Lust's usual clothes. Dance grinned, taking a deep breath as if he could breathe in the _love_ in the room and keep it for himself forever.

Then he snapped his fingers twice, the signal to start lavishing the fourth between them all, to make him feel properly loved and welcomed.

* * *

Axe smiled to himself, listening to the indistinct humming noises from, first next to his head, then somewhere below him. He didn't quite know how he got _roped_ (heh, that was a good one – when was the last time he punned like that, without the morbid undertones? he didn't remember) into it, but getting involved with them was doing wonders for his self esteem. Dance was bossy and grumpy and demanding (of both himself and others) but he went out of his way to think of them in the end, and Red was a big teddy bear, and Lust was just a cuddle monster. They were... great.

Yeah. Great.

That they wanted to include him in their bed games was sweet. He didn't see the big draw, but he wasn't gonna say no when all they wanted was for him to _hang out_ (hot damn, two in a row).

It usually ended in some sweet cuddle pile action, which he was pretty cool with.

Axe heard the snap of a finger (probably Dance – guy loved the dramatic stuff even if he tried to hide it), and for a brief moment, he thought maybe that was it for his part, that he'd been strung up for some decoration to include him while they did something else.

That thought was shattered to pieces when he felt a warm, wet tongue plunge into his summoned slit, a soft moan traveling though him, body and soul. Axe suppressed a shout of his own, although his teeth immediately parted.

Something damp, slightly cold compared to the air, dripped onto Axe's shoulder. A warmer, wetter, meatier thing slathered over the same place, licking (_licking, that was someone's tongue_) away the first substance. Red hummed in approval. "gotta say, really can't get 'nough o' this sweet shit. wanna share?" Before Axe could answer, his head was turned to the side, and Red was kissing him.

The distinct taste of chocolate brushed over Axe's senses.

Those same senses were overridden when a hand again began stroking and fondling his dick (which, thanks to that tongue inside him, was standing strong). Axe jerked in his bindings, only the steady hands on his hips and shoulder holding him still. A tongue laved up his length, electric and hot and impossible to ignore. Axe whined softly, not used to feeling that way, to feeling good of being given what he craved.

Red broke their kiss, offering Axe the temptation of a strawberry, which of course Axe was helpless to deny. He practically sucked it down, licking the juice from the tips of the gentle claws that offered the treat. Axe trilled, nuzzling into his palm when it was offered with a gentle brush to his cheek. Axe was overly aware of how he was breathing heavy, the machinations of the other two, although gentle (he'd gotten that impression a lot since this started, _gentle, gentle, gentle_) were slowly working him to a lather.

Axe got another strawberry, this one dipped in chocolate, and then another kiss.

Someone's mouth swallowed down his dick, and Axe almost choked when he moaned.

Red broke the kiss. "there ya go, sugar. relax. we gotcha." Red's voice was low and rumbled pleasantly in his ribs. His breath battered hot against Axe's neck, ghosts of the taste of watermelon and chocolate.

Axe would have been happy to relax, except the tension being built up in his magic was preventing him from doing so. He couldn't stop squirming.

Just as Axe thought the tension was going to snap, the mouth around his dick (which had been sucking and swallowing so contentedly moments before) pulled off, and a hand replaced it. Axe teetered on the precipice, held there by the skillful tongue still inside him and the enthusiastic hands and adoring kisses on him. He opened his mouth in an attempt to as (to _beg_) for more, seconds before the tension finally snapped. Axe seized up, a strangled cry escaping as he came, splattering himself.

Axe felt as well as heard the moan from between his legs, how it quivered against his slit and through the tongue still licking him clean. He heard two growls of approval. He felt kisses against his neck, heard Red's low murmur of, "there ya go, thats it. just like that, sugar..."

Then he felt the second splatter, more magic battering his bones, sliding down his spine and through his ribs, from the front. Axe heard Dance panting, then chuckle. "th-there... one down..." Dance coughed up, voice sounding raw and satisfied and yet so hungry, "lets see how many more we can do, huh? color?"

A chorus of 'orange's, his own voice included, filled the air. Dance rumbled in approval, leaning in to steal a kiss from Axe for himself.

Axe hung limp, lightheaded and throbbing hot all over. He didn't know what was in store for him. But, whatever it was, he could trust it would end with them together, safe and warm and fed. And that was all he'd ever wanted.


	23. Day 22: What is Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Impact Play | Cuckolding | Hand-jobs | Threesome (or more)  
**Kinks:** Impact Play | Cuckolding | Hand-jobs | Threesome (or more)  
**Pairing:** Underswap!Papyrus / Underfell!Papyrus / Outertale!Papyrus / Swapfell!Papyrus  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; safeword use  
**Length in Words:** ~1.8k
> 
> A lot of papyri have the group sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.8k of papyri being written badly

Edge sat on the couch in his downtown apartment, watching with amusement as Orbit cheerfully set up the scene for the night. Slim was in his lap, already high and in that mindset where all he wanted was to be touched. Edge languidly dragged his claws over the vertebrae that Slim's virgin killer sweater left exposed under his coat, listening to him purr.

Stretch, the brat, kept squirming, moving things when Orbit wasn't looking with BLUE magic, and blowing smoke in his face whenever he got close. The sitting room was already starting to feel like a hotbox, and Edge would be concerned if not for the fact that the drug's effects helped Orbit with his chronic pain. Stretch had assured them that the plant could in fact assist with bone regrowth, and it was only after studies of his own that Edge relented, provided they use a strain that was rich in CBD.

Orbit waved his hand to dissipate the smoke each time, scowling at their more immature of partners. Stretch just smirked at him, winking.

When Orbit was finally done, Stretch was on his knees in a little homemade stocks (a medieval thing that hardly matched the rest of the furniture, but Stretch and Slim had built it themselves, so Edge let it go). There were a number of blunt force objects (all inspected and re-inspected by Edge for safety), including a paddle, a whip, and a folded paper fan.

"heh, all wrapped up and ready to go. finally." Stretch thrashed again, making sure he was secured. "did ya have to pad the holes, edgelord?"

"YES. I DID." Edge deadpanned. "SINCE YOU REFUSE TO, I AM TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR SAFETY. THAT MEANS-"

"i know, i know, sheesh," Stretch put on that infuriating grin. "ya worry too much."

"NO SUCH THING," Edge assured. Slim shifted to sit on the couch proper, tucking himself under Edge's arm but facing the event about to unfold.

[IS IT TIME TO BEAT SOME GOOD BEHAVIOR INTO THIS DELINQUENT THAT WE ALL UNANIMOUSLY AGREE TO TAKE CARE OF OUT OF SPITE?] Orbit signed at them over Stretch's head.

Slim snickered. "yeah. ya ready, honey?"

"i'm so ready. give it to me. but, uh, maybe not orbz. he might break his wrist."

"THAT IS NOT FUNNY," Edge observed aloud.

[I WILL NOT BREAK MY WRIST BEATING YOU GENTLY] Orbit argued. [ONLY IF I TRY TO GET BRUTAL.]

"THEN PERHAPS YOU SHOULD NOT BE BRUTAL," Edge suggested.

[NATURALLY].

Stretch groaned. "less talking, more spanking."

Orbit picked up the paper fan, testing the swing.

"BE CAREFUL," Edge cautioned, unable to keep from his fretting. _If Orbit got hurt, he'd never be able to forgive himself._ Edge's bones itched just watching his frail, fragile pet move so quickly. 

Orbit smiled in that unreadable way he had, nodding to him, and Edge relaxed. Orbit turned back to Stretch, pulling his saggy shorts down to bare his coccyx to the air. He placed the flat of the paper fan on top of it, rubbing it to give Stretch a bit of a warning. Then he drew his hand back and struck Stretch, hard, making a loud cracking noise that split the air.

Stretch yelped, flinching.

Edge focused on Orbit, giving him a quick CHECK to make certain he hadn't hurt himself. Orbit gave Edge a knowing look, rolling his wrist slowly to show he was still fine. Edge nodded back, then turning to look at Stretch. "ARE YOU FEELING WELL?"

"think i'm good," Stretch hummed, wiggling his rear. "but i dunno if thats gonna-" He cut off in a gasp as Orbit gave another strike. He clenched his fists, face starting to turn a pleasant shade of orange-y yellow.

"i think he likes it," Slim observed aloud, blinking sleepily as he watched Stretch take another strike.

"THAT SEEMS TO BE THE CASE," Edge observed, running his claws over Slim's skull in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

Orbit occasionally switched hands, giving each wrist and arm time to rest from the strain of impact. He didn't give Stretch the same luxury, keeping his strikes irregular yet frequent. When Stretch quit flinching at the paper fan, Orbit switched to the paddle, this time cycling between striking his coccyx and his legs and scapulae. Orbit seemed to be rather adept at reading Stretch, despite being at an angle where he couldn't see Stretch's face. Edge was... _impressed_. He hadn't considered just how well suited his pet was to taking control and keeping it. Orbits eyelights seemed to flicker and sparkle in a way that they never did, listening to Stretch gasp and cry and shout with each expertly placed and timed strike.

Stretch, meanwhile, slowly had the brat beaten out of him, leaving him sagging in his bindings, tears tracking down his face in sparking honey-colored streams.

Edge held up a hand to Orbit, a motion to pause. Orbit froze mid swing, breathing heavy. He sat down carefully into the chair he had set nearby to rest on. Edge focused on Stretch. "STATUS?"

"whut? i-" Stretch floundered a moment, panting heavy. "oh- its g-green," Stretch stuttered, shaking.

Edge sighed in relief. A color system seemed to be working. Green was for kindness. It was good. Stretch was fine to keep going. With a soft nod to Orbit, Edge leaned back again, arm around Slim's waist.

Orbit picked up a dildo from a box that had been set off to one side, showing it to Stretch and flipping it on for a brief moment. [OPEN FOR ME.] He demanded firmly in hands. Stretch opened his mouth, and Orbit slit the toy in an inch or two, so Stretch could salivate all over it.

[GIVE ME SOMEWHERE TO PLACE IT,] Orbit signed as Stretch worked. Stretch shook, a whimper escaping, but Edge could see the faint glow of his ecto taking shape, the honeyed hue casting itself over the carpet under him. Orbit went around to inspect, leaving Stretch to hang onto the toy himself. Stretch had made a torso, ass, and thighs, his stiff dick hanging between his legs. Orbit rubbed at what Edge could only imagine were soft ass cheeks, kneading the false flesh to it bunched and squeezed between Orbit's phalanges. Stretch mewled around the toy still in his mouth, hips wiggling invitingly. Orbit gave it a gentle slap (something Edge was grateful for, given how easy it was fr Orbit to hurt himself), then began to finger at the hole between them, inciting more noises from their brat.

Edge saw Stretch's pre begin to drip down to the carpet, shimmering liquid that settled slow.

Orbit seemed satisfied with his work, taking the toy back from Stretch's, only to ease it into his ass moments later. The brat gasped and panted, shaking again. It was obvious when Orbit flipped the switch, because Stretch's voice went raw and involuntary in his bliss.

Slim, by Edge's side, was breathing hard himself, squirming with a hand over a glowing bulge in his jeans. Edge smirked, tilting Slim's chin up to look at him. "DO YOU NEED HELP WITH THAT?"

Slim opened his mouth to respond, only to close it again. He hid in Edge's shoulder, one hand clinging to his shirt. He made a small, quivering noise of affirmation.

"WORDS, PET," Edge coaxed, soft.

Slim's face went a vibrant, deep burnt sienna at the _pet name_ (_heh, that was a good one_). "y-yeah. help would be great..."

Edge nodded, bringing his opposite hand over to scratch lightly at Slim's jaw and neck (avoiding touching the collar that wasn't his, so Razz didn't have to have what they were doing shoved in his face, _because unlike some people Edge was considerate_). The hand that had been soothing Slim went down, unzipping his jeans and freeing his erection. Edge's fingers easily curled around it and began to stroke him, slow at first, then finding a rhythm that had Slim tensing fighting back noises of a kind Edge couldn't only guess a name for.

Stretch let out a scream moments after the crack of the whip. "b-" his voice went, but the next crack broke him off into a sob.

Edge jumped to his feet, holding up a hand for Orbit to stop. He closed the distance between them, unclasping the stocks and pulled Stretch into his lap on the floor. Stretch whined, gasping and panting as he shook.

Orbit stood poised for another strike, before sitting down, watching.

"THE WHIP IS TOO MUCH, ISN'T IT?" Edge murmured, biting back the urge to say 'I TOLD YOU SO'. He'd warned Stretch, he'd told him the whip was different.

Stretch grinned, sockets closed. "ok, yeah, it's- uh- different."

Edge sighed, checking where the weapon had struck. Long discolored marks crisscrossed over Stretch's back. Edge tutted. It looked like a bit too much power hand been put behind the strike, at least for someone with such a low tolerance for pain. He soothed Stretch's skull. "THAT IS FINE. WE WON'T USE IT NEXT TIME."

"...you guys will still fuck me right?" Stretch asked weakly, already squirming again. "i'm... uh... still not exactly done?"

Edge scoffed, but he was relieved in a way. "YES, WE WILL STILL FUCK YOU, YOU NEEDY BRAT. REMEMBER YOUR TAPOUT?"

"yeet whatever at your head."

"GOOD." Edge looked to Orbit. "YOU SHOULD REST FOR NOW. YOU DID A LOT TODAY." Edge was worried Orbit might have been overexerting himself. The last thing Edge needed was for his pet to pass out again.

Orbit looked at his hand, and nodded. [IS HE OKAY?]

"WE STOPPED IN TIME. HE'S JUST FINE." Edge assured. "CAN YOU GET TO THE COUCH?"

Orbit nodded, making the strides across the room to sit beside Slim. Orbit sagged a bit, sockets fluttering as he started to doze nearly immediately. Edge sighed again, shaking his head. He really needed to watch him more closely.

Slim got up, getting behind Stretch and pulling out the toy, turning it off and setting it aside to be forgotten. "still in the mood, honey?"

"fuck yeah."

Edge snorted. "THATS THE IDEA."

The other two snickered. Slim eased himself into Stretch, pulling the other into his lap, hugging him around the middle. Stretch hissed a bit, his sore back and legs not doing him any favors, but he started to gyrate, stubborn.

Edge knelt in front of him, holding him by the neck (hoping it would be reassuring, grounding, as Edge felt it to be), as he started to stroke at Stretch's untouched length. "IF YOU PASS OUT ITS OVER," he warned.

"then i guess i better not pass out yet huh?" Stretch snarked back.

"BRAT."

"you love it."

Edge felt his face heat up at the accusation, which made the other two laugh, before Slim's thrust got Stretch moaning.

As Edge worked his hand, he wondered if love was the right word or not. He cared, yes, but was it _love_? Was he even capable of that now? He didn't know. But he could hope.


	24. Day 23: Master, At Your Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Scars | Master/Slave | Shibari | Size Difference  
**Kinks:** Scars | Master/Slave | Shibari | Size Difference | Cunnilingus | Begging | Dirty Talk  
**Pairing:** Underlust!Sans / Underfell!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;
> 
> Lust gives himself to Red enthusiastically

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.3k of some EMV style rust, 1v1

Lust felt the gentle slide of soft rope across his bones, sliding over his ribs, between them, crisscrossing and caressing him with every breath. He moaned softly, sagging a little to one side despite trying to sit still.

"almost done, sweetheart," Red promised, gentle claws working surprisingly quickly to lace up the last few knots, securing Lust's arms behind his back. Red thumbed gently at Lust's ilia from behind. "ok. do some squirmin' t make sure its comfortable, yeah?"

Lust hummed in understanding, wiggling and tugging at his new bindings. Every move he made just made the rope rub him in all the right ways, making him gasp. "y-ya did great, sweetheart- um, i mean..." Lust couldn't stop the smile curving against his teeth. "_master~_"

Lust had his back to Red, but he heard the way he nearly choked on his own breath. Red let out a low, pleased rumble, curling his larger, thicker arms around Lust and pulling him into his lap. "mmm, yeah. say it again, pet."

Lust leaned back into Red's chest, letting his sockets flutter shut. _It was so cute_, how Red puffed up with pride at being given a position of power, at being trusted. Lust adored it. "master~ please~" He trilled, turning to look Red in the face. "be good to me?"

Red groaned, face turning a vivid, flustered pink, leaning in to kiss him. Lust accepted it enthusiastically, relaxing into Red's hold. With Red there, there was no sense of urgency, no impending doom or ticking clock. There was just his precious loved one and whatever fleeting moments they could make together. Lust loved it, _loved him_, and if a little roleplay was going to show it, he would do it with bells on.

Red's hand slid from Lust's cheek to his throat, tugging gently at the collar. Lust didn't bother to hold in his moans, letting Red have all of them. Red cradled Lust like a valuable doll, rubbing his hip and nibbling on Lust's clavicle with a gentleness that almost brought tears to his sockets.

"master~" Lust moaned again, his voice lilting up sharply when Red's tongue dipped sweetly between his vertebrae, sending a shiver through his whole body. The ropes quivered with him, grinding against his bones. "master, please, i'll do anything for you~ please~!!"

The way Red lit up made Lust's soul quiver in delight. "shhh, doll, gonna be good fer me, ain't'cha? gonna be good fer me 'n-" he flushed brighter, before biting down on Lust's shoulder a bit harder, piercing bone with a brutally potent intent to _love_ and _cherish_ and _mark_. Lust's sockets fluttered shut, arching into it with a genuine cry of surprise and delight.

He knew Red would never leave a permanent scar, but even one that would last for a few days was one he would cherish.

Red situated Lust entirely into his lap, sideways so he could nuzzle into the crook of Red's arm. Red held him close with one hand, while the other began its exploration in earnest, clever claws seeking out Lust's sensitive places. Those sharp claw tips teased at the spaces between Lust's lumbar vertebrae, making Lust squirm and gasp uncontrollably. This of course made the rope grind against Lust's intercostal spaces in all the right ways wrenching out a moan.

"yeah," Red rasped, drawn out, raw, and satisfied. "that what ya like, ain't it, sweetheart? yer a good fuckin' pet wut loves when i treat ya right, ain't ya?"

Lust never got tired of Red's idea of what a master did to their pets. "y-yes, master~ please~ more~" Lust wasn't ashamed to beg for his sweetheart, for the one who loved him and treated him better than he deserved, for the one he couldn't help but love right back.

"damn fuckin' straight," Red rumbled, his claw creeping down to tease at Lust's sacrum, slender tips scratching tenderly at the inner surfaces of his sacrum foramen. Lust writhed in his lap, his magic pooling hot, heavy, and useless in his pelvic girdle, unable to take any kind of shape with Red's hand in the way.

Lust whimpered, but what stole the breath out of him was when Red leaned down to press a soft kiss to his sternum, purring in delight. Lust felt tears build in his sockets, overwhelmed by just how attentive Red was to him, how much Red did for him, how good he made him feel, inside and out. Lust hid his face in Red's shoulder, mewling, taking comfort in Red's deep, resounding purr and how tightly he was held close.

"yer my fuckin' pet," Red growled. "_mine_. 'n i take care o' wutz mine. hear me? i'mma take good care o' ya. my pet, my sweetheart..." Red forced Lust's chin up to take another kiss, at the same time speeding up the work of his hand on Lust's sacrum. Lust moaned into his mouth, feeling the buildup of all the emotional and physical stimulation coil in his chest.

When Red let him go (Lust refused to pull away on his own no matter how much he ached), Lust mewled, gasping. "master, please~ please please please i'm so close, please, master, let me-"

"gonna come?" Red asked, not moving his hand or slowing down. "gonna scream fer me?"

"yes- yes yes yes yes-" Lust knew he was babbling, but the tension coiling in his chest was getting denser, tighter, stronger, sparking electric and making his soul pulse faster and faster in his ribs until-

Red pulled his hand out of Lust's pelvis, cutting off just before Lust could come. Lust whimpered, bucking in an attempt to get more, more friction, more attention, more of Red.

"heh..." Red brought his hand, now coated in transluscent purple fluid, up to his teeth to lick it clean. "fuck, sweetheart, ya really do taste sweet. 'm seein' why dance loves t' eatcha..." His grin shifted to a smirk, playful and wicked and handsome, making Lust's aching soul flutter. "hows about i get me some o' that, eh?"

Before Lust knew what he was doing, Red readjusted Lust so he was laying on his back between Red's legs, his own legs thrown over Red's shoulders. Lust's traitorous magic snapped into place as a weeping slit, in just the perfect position for Red to nuzzle into. "red- m-master, please-!!"

Red purred, squeezing gently at Lust's hips. "dun worry, pet. i gotcha. i'mma make ya feel real good, sweetheart. but here's th' rule: ya better scream real loud who it was wut made ya come when ya do, get me?"

Lust nodded, trying to remember to breathe.

"theres my good pet." Red licked his teeth, smirking wider as he leered down Lust's body. Red didn't look away as he brought his tongue to Lust's clit, and began to mercilessly abuse it, swirling and nuzzling and lapping at it, ignoring Lust's hole completely.

Lust arched into his attention, squeezing his sockets shut and thrashing. He knew he was getting louder, and louder, but all he could think about was how _god damn good_ his love was making him feel, how his toes curled and his soul shook and his datemate loved him and-

The orgasm ripped through Lust, making his spine arch harshly and his legs thrash. He screamed, and he hoped distantly that whatever noise he made was could at least be vaguely interpreted as Red's name. He could feel strong, gentle hands holding him still, and that tongue keep working at him without prejudice, extending the high until Lust was limp and spent.

Red pulled Lust back into his lap properly, cuddling Lust against his chest again with a smug, satisfied sigh and more of that deep purring. Lust nuzzled into him, trying to murmur the words that always seemed stuck in his throat before he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is as close to doming as Red is probably ever going to get  
he really doesn't understand what a dom is supposed to be istg  
the big teddy bear


	25. Day 24: Sweet Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Pegging | Leather | Lapdances | Shower/Bath  
**Kinks:** Leather | Shower/Bath | Tentacles | Sacrum Lacing  
**Pairing:** Dream / Underswap!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; cheesy plot points
> 
> Blue helps Dream clean off after he gets kinda dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.2k of dream finally not being squicky

"HONESTLY, I DON'T KNOW WHATS GOTTEN INTO YOU LATELY," Blue huffed in irritation, wringing a filthy, wet washcloth roughly. His lack of care for the cloth did not transfer into the touch he used to once again wipe down the spine of his friend. Blue was naked save for a towel wrapped around his pelvis, clipped in place with a silver apple clip he usually used to hold his cape closed over his spaulders, which sat with the rest of his clothes (save the gloves he kept on out of habit and convenience) on a shelf on the other side of the bathroom.

Dream, sitting with his back to Blue in the tub, remained silent, but his wings quivered and folded inward in something that might have been interpreted as remorse, had it been seen in a lesser creature. Blue knew better than to try and read Dream like he would someone else. He did not doubt Dream capable of regret, but he doubted Blue's word alone would inspire the feeling. "WHAT EVER INSPIRED YOU TO ROLL AROUND IN A MUD PUDDLE?!?!"

Dream sat there still, sinking down a little more in the filthy water that eddied around him to slink down the drain in shame. He was also naked, save for a towel, except Dream was absolutely _covered_ in dirt, mud, and debris, so much so that it largely covered up the rest of him (towel now included). Blue had had to convince him not to go back into the house for fear of tracking it everywhere, instead shortcutting straight to the bath tub. Even after standing under the shower spray for so long, Dream was still filthy, and now Blue had to scrub him down to get it all. It felt like the more he scrubbed, however, the more mud seemed to be there, simply turning a brighter and brighter color instead of being wiped away entirely.

"THAT WAS NOT A RETORICAL QUESTION, BY THE WAY, BUT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO ANSWER, I WILL NOT PRY..." Blue sighed, rinsing off the washcloth yet again before returning to his seemingly thankless task. The mud was starting to look... yellow... and shimmer, like Blue had somehow polished it to a bright shine there between Dream's wings.

"...I was- I _am_..." Dream started to speak, wings flexing and constricting slowly, the mud dripping from the delicate feathers, "..._happy_."

Blue snorted a laugh, giving up on Dream's back and starting on his skull proper. He was trying to save the wings for last, since they were the worst offenders and he as hoping the shower spray would put a dent in the work before he got there. "I AM VERY HAPPY YOU ARE HAPPY, BUT I DO NOT SEE WHY YOU NEEDED TO CELEBRATE BY TAKING A MUD BATH." Sometimes Blue just did not understand his friend.

"You... you _are_ happy that I'm happy, aren't you? Even though you're frustrated with me, you're still..." Dream grew quiet again, shifting once more, another flex and ebb of those muddy wings. "You are..."

Shaking his head, rinsed his cloth again, scowling thoughtfully at his work. Most of the mud (or was it oil? it was thick! how did he manage to roll around in oil?!) on Dream was now a shiny yellow, except on his wings. The room smelled thick of apples, which was odd since Blue thought the latest soap was rose-scented. "YES, I AM HAPPY YOU ARE HAPPY. I'M GOING TO GET YOUR WINGS NOW, OK?"

"You can touch them," Dream assured, stretching the structures out and back slowly to their full extent.

Blue marveled at them, slimy as they were. He pressed a gloved hand against the left one, smoothing down the upper ridge, before putting the cloth there to begin the gentlest wipe-down yet. He could feel Dream's wing quiver and twitch under him, subtle like a shiver. "HOWEVER DID YOU MANAGE TO GET THIS DIRTY??"

"...I worked very hard."

"YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE??" Blue couldn't help his incredulity.

"It was..." Dream tried to think of how to explain his thought process. "I... read your letter. And I was compelled to hide."

"MY LETTER?" Blue paused in his scrubbing, his soul squeezing up.

"The one you hid in the trash. I could feel the positivity burned into it, so I went to get it-"

"YOU CAN FEEL THAT?!?!?!?!" Blue was utterly mortified. _He'd written so many letters at home, so many times he'd tried to put his feelings to paper, and the one time he does it at Dream's Estate-_

"If the feeling is strong enough, like a stain of intent," Dream explained. "...Are you alright? You're not feeling happy now. Is something the matter?"

"I-AM-FINE-PLEASE-CONTINUE-" Blue wheezed out, feeling his face burn. He could hear his voice had gone up a few clicks.

"Very well." Dream shifted again. "I felt it in the bin, so I went to get it to see why someone would throw out something so positive, thinking it might have been a mistake, and I read the letter. I recognized your handwriting, and the imprint you left on the paper- I was- I was _happy_, and then I was compelled to hide..."

Blue felt a little nauseous, sticky with nervous sweat. His hands had stopped wiping at all, but the mud was dripping down to the bottom of the tub, to be rinsed away. Still, Dream appeared drenched in yellow slime, shimmering and sparking with it. "I UNDERSTAND THAT FEELING INTIMATELY." Blue wanted to hide right now too.

"You do??" Dream turned his head to look at Blue over his shoulder. Dream's face was also covered in the now yellow oil, nearly matching his eyelights in color, if not intensity and brightness. "This. This feeling of being warm. Of being consumed by stickiness and heat? Is this... normal for happiness??"

"IT'S NORMAL FOR EMBARRASSMENT," Blue tried to explain, fighting down the spike of regret, shame, and disappointment as he looked away from that intense, soul seizing gaze. He knew Dream couldn't possibly reciprocate his feelings. Dream was a higher being, after all (and he had Ink). "I AM. SORRY. I AM SO SORRY, DREAM. I NEVER INTENDED TO TELL YOU. I HOPE THIS DOES NOT MAKE THINGS AWKWARD BETWEEN US..."

"Why would it make things awkward?" Dream asked. "Why are you sorry? Why are you... upset?"

Blue took a deep breath. He shook himself. _Of course it wouldn't phase Dream. Dream was beyond that sort of pettiness._ "A LOT OF THE TIME, ONE SIDED AFFECTION IS A GOOD WAY TO STRAIN A FRIENDSHIP AND MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE."

"That is no problem," Dream assured.

Blue let out a relieved sigh. "THAT IS... GOOD TO HEAR!! I AM GLAD WE CAN MOVE PASSED IT." Looking back at the wing under his hand, Blue sighed again and switched to the other, carefully working away more of the brown dirt to at least get it all gold.

_Why did this seem so familiar?_

"Move passed it." Dream parroted. "Okay."

Dream pulled his wings in, and spun in his seat. He opened his arms, crooking a finger.

Blue dropped the rag in surprise.

"Come here..?" Dream started to command, before carefully making it a request. Blue blinked, worried he was seeing things when he saw a little pink shimmer under the oil on Dream's face.

"DREAM..?"

"You want to move passed it, yes?" Dream asked, smiling coyly, a near smirk that had Blue's soul thumping hard against his ribcage. "So we will move passed it, and go right to the comforts of romanticism and sensuality."

"Uh-" Blue's ability to articulate fell right out of him.

When Blue didn't move, Dream stretched his wings out, still dripping in that now golden oil, and curled them around Blue, using them to pull him right into Dream's lap. Dream's hands pulled Blue down so he was straddling Dream's waist as he leaned back, still sporting that same near-smirk that had Blue's mouth go dry and demand he swallow down the lump in his nonexistent throat. Blue's hands naturally settled on Dream's shoulders, for both support and balance. Sitting like this, their difference in height was mitigated somewhat, but Blue was still looking down at him. Dream's majesty was no lesser for his short stature, still taking Blue's breath away when he lingered on it too long, as he was now, staring into his eyes.

The smell of apples and sweet flowers was strong in the air.

"This is better." Dream reached up to cup Blue's cheek. "Blueberry... I." Dream paused. "I want to make you happy. I burn for it. Tell me, anything, everything, and I will have it so for you. Whatever it takes."

The more Dream spoke, the hotter Blue felt his magic run. "YOU-?!?!"

"Darling Blueberry..." Dream's hand trailed down, leaving tracks of his golden oil, his fingertips teasing at Blue's neck as his thumb began to stroke at Blue's clavicle. "I have not made so much sap in all my life. See how happy your sentiments make me?"

"YOU- I- WHAT???" Blue looked down at himself and Dream. Dream was oozing in the fragrant oil, now a bright gold compared to the muddy brown it had been. Blue was splattered in it, warm against his bones just as the shower's water had been. "SAP??"

Dream held up his other hand, rubbing his index and thumb together. "Sap, yes, although it will not harden to amber so long as the magic in it is active. Do not fear, I will not let it petrify you."

"WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN SAP???" Blue had to ask, although he was relaxing bit by bit as he spoke. The smell was intoxicating, and he was warm, and (despite the wet sticky feeling) Dream's lap was comfortable, and his wings were soft and held him close.

"I-" Dream cut off, and that pink glow came back. Dream's gaze seemed to pierce into Blue, searching. "I am... not so much of an angel as... a dryad."

"A- A TREE?? SO YOU'RE MAKING SAP??" Blue was starting to feel dizzy. He was _so comfortable_. He knew Dream radiated positivity, and it affected those around him, but the effect it had when touching him was so much stronger. Or maybe Dream really was _just that comfortable_ to snuggle with.

"I can only make it when I'm happy," Dream admitted, more of that pink filtering through. "Or, I should say, I overproduce when I'm happy, whether I want to or not. I can call it on command, but doing so to this magnitude would be pointless."

Dream tugged Blue a little bit closer, and Blue slid his arms around Dream's neck, resting his head on his shoulder. Dream purred, his arms curling around Blue's back, stroking up and down his spine.

"YOU LOOK LIKE A SHINY GOLD NIGHTMARE..." Blue mumbled.

"We are twins," Dream replied wryly. "But I think Night is far cuter in the end."

"DOES THIS MEAN YOU HAVE TENTACLES TOO?" Blue asked, blinking away a bit of spray from the shower.

"Would... you like to see?"

_Blue would like to see a lot._ His face heated up again, a shiver running down his spine. "UM..."

Dream tilted Blue's head up. "Sweetest Blueberry. You can ask nearly anything of me. I would give it freely, and gladly, to please you."

"BET YOU SAY THAT TO EVERYONE," Blue mumbled, looking away. He knew Dream wanted _literally everyone_ to be happy, all day, every day, at all times, forever. That was hardly a secret. Blue was one of the few who knew the extent of Dream's convictions (and he certainly had some reservations about Dream's methods, even knowing how well he meant), so it was nothing special to be told such a thing. _Blue wasn't special._ He was only one more person in the long line of people Dream went above and beyond to please.

The sensation of something coiling around Blue's spine, slick (too slick to be the sap, more like water) and hot, made Blue jolt, back arching. "Yes, and no." The tentacle stroked at Blue's spine sweetly, wringing a whimper from him. "For you, I..." More of that pink hue, and there seemed to be a bit more sap. "I have the sudden urge to hide again..."

Blue swallowed an embarrassing noise, his anxiousness bubbling out of him in a giggle. "THIS- DREAM, PLEASE, DON'T TEASE ME. THIS IS SOMETHING YOU SHOULD ONLY DO WITH THE PEOPLE MOST PRECIOUS AND SPECIAL TO YOU. ITS NOT SOMETHING TO BE SHARED BETWEEN NORMAL FRIE-_NNNNNNN_!!!" Blue's attempt to explain was interrupted by the sensation of something weaving through his sacrum foramen. He arched back further, clutching at Dream's shoulders so hard, the leather of his gloves stretched and squeaked. If Dream's wings hadn't been right there behind him, Blue was sure he would have fallen over.

"...I was not aware of that. But it does not change this." Dream carefully pried Blue's hands off his shoulders, holding them, threading his slender phalanges through one of Blue's gloved ones, the other gripping it whole. "You are as special to me as I am to you."

Blue squeezed his friend's hands, still unable to stop squirming. The heat was building, stronger and tighter and more electric inside him, with every twist and stroke and shift of the tentacles woven around and through him. But Blue knew Dream, he knew him: Dream loved everyone, and everything. How could someone who loved so indiscriminately ever understand, never mind reciprocate, the kind of special love Blue was stricken with: the kind that made Blue's soul twist and flip; the kind that made the pleasure building inside him that much more intense because of who was causing it; the kind that hurt and felt wonderful in equal measure?

Dream squeezed back, his grin faltering. "You do not believe me." It wasn't a question. "Please. Tell me. What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

Blue couldn't think of an answer. He was having trouble thinking much at all, unable to look away from those enchanting golden eyelights as his SOUL was set alight with pleasure and comfort.

Dream's grip on Blue's hands, however, slowly cleared the fog. Dream's grip was gradually tightening, and it was starting to become painful. "D-DREAM- YOUR HAND-" Blue tried to gasp out.

Whether or not Dream realized was difficult to tell, but he let go of Blue's hands regardless. The moment he did, he gripped Blue's face and pulled him in hard, roughly, for a kiss.

The taste of apples filled Blue's senses. He moaned, letting go of the last few shreds of his self control. His arms went back around Dream's neck, clinging to him, dragging the leather tips over his greasy skull and scratching at the seam where his wings were attached to his scapulae. Dream moaned right back, his wings curling tighter around Blue, holding him close and precious and careful even as Dream's tongue took control of his mouth like a merciless general gaining ground on the battlefield.

The tentacles continued to drive Blue to distraction, curling his toes and wringing his voice out of him. Dream drank it all in. Blue couldn't see it, but a third tendril coiled around his pubic symphysis, grinding into it harshly and sending his magic spasming. He seized up, the inside of his ribs gushing with his release as his soul exploded to relieve the overwhelming pressure of everything he was feeling all at once, leaving him limp and drained.

Blue couldn't quite move, his vision blurry, his skull ringing, his bones rattling with the after effects of climax. Still, he felt how Dream's grip gentled, how he broke the kiss with a tender reluctance, wiping at Blue's face with the pads of his thumbs, before leaning in to press a sweeter, meaningful kiss to Blue's vulnerable throat. "My sweetest Blueberry... I will hold you so for howsoever long it may take, until you are reassured of my devotion. Your feelings mean more to me than you could ever know."

Blue's still overstimulated soul quivered at his words, and he could feel Dream's smirk against his cervical vertebrae.

The tentacles receded, untangling themselves from Blue's bones and leaving him limp like a marionette in Dream's arms, panting. Dream shifted, leaning back until they seemed to be laying on something soft together, still under the comforting spray of the warm shower. Blue couldn't feel it, wrapped up in Dream's wings as he was, but he could hear it, the sound of the water battering against them and the floor, like rain in the forest, playing a soothing lullaby on the leaves of every tree.

Blue fell right to sleep, daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too good to be true.

* * *

Dream lounged back on the cushion of his vines, cuddling his taller lover to his chest and unable to stop smiling no matter how he may try. He'd been inconsolably happy since he ready those raw, unfiltered emotions given words on paper, scrawled in a precise yet shaky hand. He'd been so overcome he'd immediately started oozing, and thrown himself out of the second story window to try and bury himself on pure emotional instinct.

He still couldn't stop oozing.

Was this what happiness felt like to others? Was this how he made everyone else feel? It was addicting. Dream never wanted to stop feeling this way. He didn't care if he ruined the carpet or made the house smell, this was the best feeling in the world.

What Dream couldn't understand was _why_ Blue had felt that way. Dream had never needed to compel Blue to positivity, had never once needed to ask for his soul. Blue was always a beacon of optimism (or nearly always; there were times when Blue's light faltered, when he was overcome with anger or guilt or fear, but it never lasted long, and it never blocked out his hope completely). Dream knew he made other's happy by his very presence, but Blue hadn't been near enough to him to have had that affect the contents of such a letter (Dream had been out gathering supplies all day, and his aura alone couldn't permeate the barriers between universes).

So Blue had felt those feelings himself.

Blue had genuinely meant it.

Just thinking about it again made Dream's insides squirm and flutter, something hot building at the edge of his eye sockets that he refused to let out. Instead, he cuddled Blue closer, stroking his skull, and shifted one of his wings up to cover the both of them in a thick canopy of his leaves. His other wing continued to cover Blue as much as it could, holding him close and safe.

Dream couldn't help thinking that Blue looked good in his colors, glittering in his sap, the gold complementing his natural lazuline hues beautifully.

Dream still couldn't believe he'd told Blue his- what was the word, 'embarrassing' secret.

Dream still couldn't believe how _god damn happy_ he was.

Closing his eyes, Dream felt for one of Blue's hands, threading their fingers together again. He appreciated the soft texture of the leather, and couldn't resist bringing it up to his cheek to nuzzle.

His precious, sweet little Blueberry: Dream was going to do whatever he had to to return this joy: anything; everything; and if it was for the selfish reason of, 'just because he wanted to,' then maybe, just this once, nobody had to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this is the first, fully consensual sex act dream's been a part of  
with ink being kinda iffy
> 
> dream knows he's manipulative whether he wants to be or not, so he got so emotional over a genuine love confession that he defenestrated himself and tried to plant himself in the yard to hide, getting very muddy as the dirt mixed with his sap. it hid his blushing tho so little miracles. i think he genuinely adores blue above and beyond the way he 'loves' everyone else (except maybe ink)
> 
> meanwhile blue is very aware that dream isn't... normal. and he doesnt feel like others do. so he never planned on confessing but sometimes the feeling was so overwhelming he had to get it out somehow so he wrote letters. he usually does it at home but he was stuck in dream's place that day and needed to vent. he does genuinely love dream and wants to be with him but he's conflicted because he thinks dream cant reciprocate and doesnt want dream in a one sided relationship that might upset him or pressure him
> 
> i think they'll be ok tho. this'll probably be the most stable and healthy relationship dream has, and if you've ever seen the Last Unicorn, you know what they say about a tree's love. ;3


	26. Day 25: Spring Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Tickling | Scat | Boot Worship | Olfactophilia (Scent)  
**Kinks:** Olfactophilia (Scent) | Heat | Pillow Humping | Kissing  
**Pairing:** HoneyCider (Nightmare/ Underswap!Papyrus)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; attempt (and failure) at rape/noncon/dubcon; mention of plans for major character death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.4k of more of my new crackship please halp i'm dying

Nightmare sauntered through his castle, admiring his own hard work. He recalled all the effort he had put to creating every brick, every pound of mortar, how he painstakingly carved every statue, every gargoyle, every door, sculpted every hinge and every-

Nightmare stopped, tightening the vines that held his wings securely against his back, hidden from sight. There was something off about the ambiance. The usual misery was... different.

Cross rounded the corner, seemingly in a sort of daze, face tinted that same purple he got when Nightmare was choking him for the fun of it. Usually, Cross would drop to one knee upon seeing him, bow his head, _show some god damn fucking respect_, but Cross only stared at him, stumbling closer.

"And what, exactly, do you think you're doing, worm?"

Cross took a shuddered breath. "Nightmare, whats that smell?"

"Smell? I do not smell anything," Nightmare huffed, sniffing the air. All he could detect was the not-so-usual strain of misery (confusion, hunger, mild suppressed fear, and the suffering from longing, however vague and unfocused), the sting of cleaning products, a bit of blood, sweat, and delicious tears.

"It's like... apples. But more..? It's driving everyone up the walls," Cross groaned softly, still approaching.

Nightmare took an involuntary step back, his wings fluffing up in alarm under his cape. _Oh. Fuck._ "Put the castle on lockdown," he hissed at his second. When Cross didn't immediately respond, Nightmare shouted, "_Now, slave!!_"

Cross jumped, as if rudely awakened from sleep, and started to scramble back the way he came.

Nightmare, however, power walked back to his throne room, slamming and locking the doors so he would be alone, double checking all the curtains even though he always kept them shut anyway, and then went to sit behind his throne, hidden further by the dark purple of the curtained canopy that hid the back area of the room from his court.

Nightmare settled by the water fountain, dipping a few of his vines into it to have a drink, try and calm down. Slowly, he released his deathgrip on his wings and carefully unfurled them, keeping his sockets shut until they were fully stretched out, then shook them to dislodge as much of his sap from them as possible.

He had to look. The thought was easier than the act. However, Nightmare opened his eyes and turned to look at his wings.

The leaves were almost entirely pink underneath all of his sap, only a few spots of his usual nefarious purple still clinging to him.

Nightmare felt his bloated black soul drop like a lead weight, along with whatever analogue he had for a stomach, feeling like the earth had fallen out from under him and he was plunging into an eternal abyss, only to catch himself on the one and only ledge left for safety. _His season was catching up to him so fucking fast-_ His calendar still said he had a week before he had to worry, before he'd show any outward signs! But his wings told a different story, saying he was a day, if not a few hours, away from his sap taking on the hateful, humiliating dye that his season always plagued him with.

That had been too close for Nightmare's comfort. He couldn't let anyone know of his time of vulnerability, of his shame. _He'd lose all of his credibility, his reputation would be ruined, or worse, someone might try to take advantage..._

Nightmare curled his wings (another secret he couldn't risk sharing) closer around him, hugging himself to try and calm down. He was going to be miserable for the next month or so, but with the castle on lockdown he shouldn't be disturbed...

It wasn't a perfect system, but with his doors locked and his sap hardening to amber for extra resistance at the door, even if someone did get bold enough to seek out the source of the smell he exuded unwillingly (something that unfortunately attracted _anyone and everyone_ to him _without god damn fail_, like some _sick cosmic joke_), they would not be able to enter his bastion.

Nightmare used another vine to turn on his sun lamp, curling up on his favorite cushion by the fountain, wings fluffed up to catch the stupid light as he settled in for a month of his own personal hell.

* * *

It was three days into Nightmare's season proper when his phone finally notified him. Nightmare had tossed his clothes into a heap days ago, phone and all, so he they wouldn't be ruined so badly by the gross pink sap he was drenched in, squirming and grinding uselessly into his cushion. He ignored it at first, too distracted by his own traitorous body to give a damn about what it could be about, but he picked up a growing spike of unease from a place of interest, and it called his attention. Nightmare's vines rummaged through his clothes blindly until they found it, bringing it out and pulling it back to him from across the room. It vibrated again from another text message, the vibration traveling up his vines in a way that had Nightmare dizzy and weak (and _absolutely livid about it_).

When he again managed to pull himself together, Nightmare pulled up his text messages, he was both surprised and not to see it was from Stretch. It took a few moments longer than Nightmare would admit to even read the messages, his mind constantly wandering and blanking on him from the electric torment he was being subjected to.

**undrswp03F8F5p:** hey  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** i no u sed not 2 contact u much  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** but u been missing our meetups 4 a few dayz  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** u ok?

Nightmare let out a shuddered breath. Instead of the outraged irritation he should have felt at being interrupted so casually by a mere mortal (who can't even _fucking spell_), all his soul could conjure to mind was the vivid details of _when Stretch was touching him, holding his vines, kissing-_

Nightmare doubled over, covering his mouth to stifle a desperate, humiliating noise he could not suffer to echo in his hallowed halls. When he finally pulled himself to some semblance of functional (a pathetic bar, given he was in a state of disarray he would never be able to show in public), he typed out a slow, careful response with shaking hands.

**My Malefic Self:** I am busy. Standby for further orders.  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** busy guys dont spend 4 mins typing out a reply that short  
**My Malefic Self:** Do not sass me, mortal!  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** u like my sass  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** & my othr thingz ;)

Nightmare's breath hitched, screaming internally. _He ought to murder that pathetic, insufferable, irreverent welp!! How dare he-?!?!_ Nightmare's chubby thighs clenched around his cushion, hips grinding down in an otiose rhythm.

  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** dreams off grid 2  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** sans is packing to go help him w/ somethin  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** said ink needs a break  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** u guys fiting?  
**My Malefic Self:** Yes. I am midrrinh him rihht npw.  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** wtf iz that a typo?!

Nightmare whined, frustrated tears building up. He didn't know if it was from the shame of showing any kind of lack of perfect composure, or the way his groin ached.

  
**My Malefic Self:** *murderung  
**My Malefic Self:** *murdering  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** omg  
**My Malefic Self:** *right  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** dude ur taking two mins a pop i timed it  
**My Malefic Self:** *now  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** i no ur not doing shit no1 nowz where u r  
**My Malefic Self:** I am busy.  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** ur hiding r u ok??

What was Nightmare supposed to say? _'No, I'm not okay, I'm drowning in my own sweat and sap and pheromones and my body is so oversensitive from unsatisfying orgasms that the buzz of my phone notifications is actually starting to get me off'_ is hardly information he could freely admit.

Nightmare had to pull his hands away from the phone, leaving it in his vines as he again doubled over, one hand clutching his teeth while the other pinched his clit with a hateful viciousness until he seized up in yet another futile climax. As he worked, he could feel the phone buzzing, but it was another hour of being slumped against the lip of his fountain, panting and whimpering as his wings quivered, head fogged up and hazy, before he could look at it again.

**undrswp03F8F5p:** r u ok?  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** r u ok??  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** night???  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** night r u ok???  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** i no ur not busy  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** the silent treetment isnt funny  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** just tell me ur ok damn it  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** damn it  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** answer me u angry bonsai  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** i will blare garth brooks at u istg  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** frndz in low places slaps & i can jam all day  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** plz just talk 2 me

Nightmare shivered for another reason at the mention of the detestable music. He could taste the anxiety and apprehension and worry coming from the mortal. It would have been delicious if it were not so bitter to his refined palate. Nightmare groaned again, feeling wrung out and nauseous.

**My Malefic Self:** Cease your stupid axieties.  
**My Malefic Self:** It tastes bitter and I cannot stand it.  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** bitter?  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** im worried about u  
**My Malefic Self:** I know. Stop it.  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** never  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** r u sick/hurt?  
**My Malefic Self:** Mo  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** …  
**My Malefic Self:** *no  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** omg ur sick/hurt  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** if u cant cum 2 me i'll cum 2 u where u @  
**My Malefic Self:** no domt come heee im npt enteetsinung snyome

Nightmare didn't have the patience to fix all of those typos. He'd already ruined his reputation with Stretch anyway, so he just couldn't bring himself to care. His mind was more focused on the idea of _cuming_ to Stretch and how nice that would be-

Nightmare snarled at the uninvited mental imagery, rubbing out another pointless orgasm just to wear himself out for another few minutes. He _hated it_. He _hated_ it _so fucking much._ Nightmare saw that offhand comment about his twin, saw that Dream had not one, but _two_ people to help _him_ with his season (as if anyone didn't know he was fucking Blue and Ink even out of season, the hypocritical freak).

_And Nightmare had no one._ He couldn't trust anyone to see him so vulnerable. He made his living making people miserable, after all: Nightmare had no illusions that each and every one of his minions would slit his throat and use him for kindling if they thought they could survive the attempt.

The phone vibrated again, sending another soft, torturous wave through him.

**undrswp03F8F5p:** so ur @ home  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** i guess theres no1 u can send 2 fetch me  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** fuk

The temptation was there. Nightmare could taste it. He felt every bone in his body scream at him to _take it, to take the relief. It would be so easy. He knew exactly how to do it._ He still had the strength for it if he grit his teeth. He had practice with Kink.

_He could kill him after._ The thought sat ill with Nightmare, but he had done worse than dust a single, inconsequential mortal in his time. It left a bad taste in his mouth to think about it, but while he could trust that Stretch would not try to harm him, he wasn't sure he could trust him with his secret...

**My Melefic Self:** Go to the usual spot.  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** what??  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** oh shit ok gimme a sec 2 pack & wait 4 sans 2 leave

Nightmare considered telling him it wouldn't matter, that he wouldn't be going home. However, Nightmare didn't have the energy to waste fighting someone if he was going to both drag and subdue him in his condition. So Nightmare left it be, gathering his strength for when he would need to drag Stretch into his domain.

**undrswp03F8F5p:** ok i'm @ our spot  
**undrswp03F8F5p:** hu u get 2 cum get me? no1 here

Nightmare took a deep breath, ripping a small portal in the air, shielding himself from the cold of the Snowdin wind with his wings, waiting for Stretch to walk into his trap.

* * *

Stretch had been getting more and more worried about Nightmare as days went by. He knew Nightmare wasn't... well, he was a Work In Progress (TM), and there were a lot of people who would be happy to get rid of him in one way or another.

Sure, he'd wheedled Night's phone number out of him, but Night had been rather insistent Stretch not use it without a good reason. He wasn't sure what Nightmare considered a good reason, but Stretch had been at his wits end worrying about what he considered his friend, so that was reason enough for him.

Now Stretch was standing out in the cold, his backpack of caretaking necessities slung over his shoulder. He had no idea what exactly Night was suffering from, so he threw in everything he thought might help: wet wipes, vapor rub, tea, crackers, blankets, wash cloths, hot water bottles, heating pads, sponges, brushes, soup, noodles, other food (so much food), a few books, fertilizer (_Night said he was a tree didn't he?_), a spray bottle for water, and essentials for himself in case he had to stay overnight (like clothes, toothbrush, and his phone charger).

The Snowdin wind was picking up, signaling the conception of another blizzard. Stretch curled in on himself a bit more, looking around the wooded area again, wondering who Nightmare could have trusted with their secret to fetch him. He was certain Night wanted no one to know about whatever their relationship was.

Then the air split open like a wound, bleeding warmth and heat and the scent of spring. Stretch approached the wound in reality carefully, wary of the pink ooze that dripped around the rims. He saw more pink on the other side, like a bush, next to a tasteful water fountain and a sun lamp (none of which made sense to have together in one place). The air that came through was warm, and there was an intoxicating scent cutting through the crisp night air, apples and flowers and something muskier, calling him and making his soul thrum.

Stretch only hesitated another moment before putting first his hand, then one foot, then the rest of him starting with his head and working down, through the portal, flinching as a bit of the pink slime dripped onto his hoodie. It didn't eat through the fabric, only spreading that sweet smell, so Stretch decided it wasn't worth fussing over.

Once he was on the other side, the portal closed, leaving him in a... strange room. The walls were made of a dark, smooth substance, shimmering in the low light like metal, or gel. The whole room, including the walls, curtains (of which one of the four walls consisted), floor, ceiling, and the fountain, were all a dark black, with only the faintest hints of purple remaining. There was a significant amount of thick, strawberry pink slime on and around the fountain, splattered irregularly as it seeped off and dripped from a quivering pink bush, which seemed to be set atop what remained of a ruined cushion. The single sunlamp was the poor plant's only lightsource, the rest of the room pitch black.

Stretch was distracted by the musky scent of apples, thick in the air. It was a good long moment before he noticed the heavy breathing, the barest whisper of a voice. He had to shake himself a bit before calling out, "nightmare??"

"D-don't think to m-mock me, mortal..." Nightmare's voice warned. His voice quivered, lilting and raw and tempting in a way that would haunt Stretch's fantasies in the middle of the night.

"why would i-" Stretch started, before he was stunned into speechlessness.

The bush opened up, the pink dripping leaves moving and spreading and folding to reveal them to be two beautiful wings, and inside them, a shaking Nightmare, drenched in pink goo- pink _sap_. His eyelights were blown out and hazy, quivering yet still so intense. His teeth were slightly parted as he panted, discolored strips of liquid dripping down his jaw to match the tracks coming from his sockets, where the sap was tinted to be more purple by Nightmare's saliva and tears. Nightmare's hands (which looked so much smaller, all of him looked so much smaller somehow) clung tight to the cushion Stretch could now see was clamped between quivering thighs. His entire body was twitching, squirming, his chest heaving and his sockets fluttering as though he were fighting to keep them open.

Stretch dropped his bag carefully, taking first one step, then another, closer and closer, until he was kneeling before him, uncaring of the mess the sap was making of his pants. "night. whats..??" He brought his hand up, a silent request to touch. Nightmare didn't flinch away, letting Stretch cup the side of his face. He was hot to touch, damp and sticky. The instant Stretch made contact, Nightmare's vines started growing around him, coiling and twisting around his legs and up his body, drawing him closer.

"It is my S-Season, mortal," Nightmare hissed, barely suppressing a whimper. "And you w-will never tell a s-soul of it."

"season? like... like..?" Stretch leaned closer on his own, bringing his other hand up to alight on Nightmare's neck, digging through the sap to feel the bones beneath. Stretch's mouth went dry and his soul fluttered as Night arched into his hand, squinting as a soft, reluctant keen was forced out of him. He was shaking harder, his hands finally unclenching from his cushion to instead fist into Stretch's hoodie.

"Y-you're going t-to relieve me o-of th-this," Nightmare tried to command, which would have been more effective if he wasn't turning throat, tugging weakly with the kind of strength one would expect from someone who had none left to spare.

_So dignified, so regal, so noble, and he smelled so god damn good._ Stretch leaned in more, guiding Night by keeping his head tilted up so until Stretch pulled him into a kiss. Nightmare moaned into his mouth, a desperate noise emphasized by the way his vines and wings both encircled Stretch and how his arms shot to curl around Stretch's neck. Stretch brought one hand down to support Night's lower back, catching him just in time as his whole body seemed to lose balance, worming himself into Stretch's lap to clench his thighs around Stretch instead of the cushion, grinding fervently against him.

Stretch shivered, his magic boiling to a fever pitch and settling into his pelvis like magma, until it forming into the most painful hard-on he'd ever had. _Stretch had never been this turned on in his life._ A few probing thrusts of his own confirmed that Nightmare had definitely made a pussy, and it was dripping wet, soaking right through his cargo shorts in a way the sap couldn't have. Just that little bit of extra friction had Nightmare seizing up, moaning again into Stretch's mouth as he shuddered through an orgasm that had him squirting (ruining Stretch's shorts for good), before going limp in his arms.

Stretch broke the kiss, laying Night back against his cushion to rest before stripping all but the tanktop under his hoodie off as fast as possible, tossing them over his shoulder. He curled over Nightmare, burying his face into his neck, nuzzling and breathing in the intoxicating aroma. "holy _fuck..!_"

The thickness and pervasiveness of the sap was slowly waning, giving Stretch more access to his needy lover. He ended up licking some of it away, smiling at how Nightmare squirmed and gasped at his attention. Stretch can't help but murmur against his skull as he lines himself up to his soaking folds. "gonna do my best for ya, ok? i'm here for ya, night. _fuck_, ya smell so good, look delicious..."

Nightmare clung weakly to Stretch's shirt, trembling. His wings were puffed up under them, still stretched out to either side. glistening with sap and sweat. He looked good enough to eat, and Stretch was _starving_.

Nightmare blinked up at him, gathering his bearings, and bucked his hips. "G-get on with it," he tried to demand, but the tone made it sound like begging.

Stretch pressed into another kiss, using one hand to line himself up, and began easing himself inside Night's still dripping folds. Night moaned for him again, squinting in bliss as he wrapped his legs around Stretch's waist. Stretch hilted, groaning himself, and let himself enjoy the wet heat, the pressure, just how _god damn welcoming_ Nightmare felt.

Then he began to thrust, making Night sing sweetly with every motion.

He didn't plan to stop until his lover was satisfied, and sleeping soundly in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nightmare honestly expecting to have to force stretch into fucking him is kinda funny because stretch is so down to fuck him like plz boi
> 
> also spoiler: night does not kill stretch afterwards. he's smooched into trusting stretch with his secret and stretch promises to repeat his performance next year (or whenever night likes)


	27. Day 26: Soft Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Lactation | Roleplay | Smiles/Laughter | Toys  
**Kinks:** Lactation | Smiles/Laughter | Kissing  
**Pairing:** FirstStar (Outertale!Sans / Undertale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;
> 
> Impulse tries his new therapy and Comic is supportive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~900 words of softbois being soft

"so you're telling me," Comic hummed, gently pushing Impulse along in his wheelchair through a shortcut home, "that the doc. actually prescribed. _making squishy bits_. for legitimate therapy."

Impulse heard the repressed laughter in Comic's voice, and it was only the fact that he didn't have the reach or correct angle that kept him from gently introducing his bony elbow to Comic's ribs. [yes, he did,] Impulse signed, holding his hands a little higher than usual so Comic could see them over his head.

"that's _hilarious_," Comic squealed. "please, please, i gotta see. what are ya gonna make? ears, nose, chubby cheeks?" He parked the wheelchair by their couch, and with more strength than he usually bothered to exert, lifted Impulse from the wheelchair and collapsed in a controlled fall back into the couch. Impulse relaxed in his grip, twisting as Comic settled to lay longways so Impulse could cuddle against him.

[don't make fun of me,] Impulse whined in mock offense, blinking slow as he kicked off his shoes to let them fall to the floor. [i'm supposed to push my limits... so...] his signing trailed off in thought. [...something a bit bigger.]

"like what?"

Impulse considered. He felt his body thoughtfully, rubbing his teeth, letting his hand slide down before lingering on his ribs. He scratched idly, before signing. [breasts seem like a good start.]

Comic blushed at the suggestion. "uh. ok?"

Impulse smiled slyly, turning so his back was to Comic, his –- friend, roommate, datemate –- holding him securely in his arms about the middle. He then carefully cupped his chest just under his clavicles, building up what little reserves he had just like the therapist had taught him. He didn't know much about anatomy outside of bones, but he'd seen boobs on his nurses so he had a general idea of what he was doing.

Slowly, the magic coalesced, growing out from under his clavicles, tethering to his ribs with threads stuck to the inner surfaces, and growing outward into his hands. Impulse felt drained, even these smaller constructs pushing at his meager power limits. Chest heaving (which was that much more difficult with the extra weight), Impulse let his hands fall.

"wow," Comic breathed softly. "thats, uh, thats a pretty good job for a first try. can i... uh..." He made a grabbing gesture.

Impulse wheezed out his voiceless laugh, nodding. He didn't mind if Comic copped a feel.

Comic's face lit up, his one hand coming up to gently curl around one of them.

Impulse tensed, shivering. He hadn't expected there to be such a difference between his own hand and someone else's. Comic's intent, a mixture of self indulgence and a desire to care for and please, made his false flesh prickle and shiver.

"soft..." Comic breathed softly, nuzzling Impulse's skull as his hand began to knead, squeezing and rolling it in his hand. "is direct okay?"

Impulse turned his head to hide in Comic's neck, nodding softly. Strangeness aside, the attention was somehow soothing too, each motion tugging softly against the sensitive, taunt strings of magic lacing the underside of his ribs, holding him together, making his chest tingle pleasantly.

Comic pressed a grateful kiss to Impulse's skull, and Impulse could feel the shape of his smile against him. Comic's hand slid down, away from Impulse's chest to slide lower, lower, until he could push his hand up Impulse's shirt and return to his temporary chest. There was the extra sensation of the chill of bare bone against skin, making Impulse gasp, but it was soothed by gentle fingers and Comic's murmur of, "soft..!" spoken like a man struck by a great marvel.

Impulse relaxed again, dozing as Comic pawed sweetly at him, the attention making it easier to maintain the constructs (and therefore train his magic), making it a win-win situation all around.

Comic's fingers made little circles here and there, until they found their target: Impulse's unsuspecting nipple. Impulse let out a mute wheeze, tensing at the spike in something adjacent to pleasure.

"heh, yeah, heard about that." Comic sounded rather smug about it. "feel ok?"

Impulse nodded, still hiding. It was getting embarrassing now, but his whatever-Comic-was-to-him was there, and he felt safe, and cared for, and it was making Comic happy. Impulse had neither reason nor desire to end it yet.

Comic chuckled, blushing a soft pale light, as he continued to work his hand. Impulse's breathing began to stutter, his head going fuzzy in a pleasant way. Impulse barely noticed the damp sensation until Comic gasped, pulling his hand away to look at his fingers.

"j, i think you're leaking a bit," Comic said. The comment had Impulse looking up, only to see his magic (a swirl of purples and pinks and blues and greens) leaving a colorful stain on Comic's fingertips. Comic licked it off, slow and deliberate, humming in approval. The sight made Impulse's soul flutter.

Comic smirked, nuzzling more, a purr quivering soft in his ribs, against Impulse's back. "not ketchup, but pretty good," he teased, pulling Impulse's shirt up more to get to Impulse's now lactating nipples. Comic's other hand was joining the fun, balancing the attention to both sides and reinforcing the soft, hazy cotton filling Impulse's skull.

It would be fine if Impulse dozed off, right? Comic was looking after him. He was comfortable. He felt pretty damn good, besides being tired.

"hey." Comic whispered, nuzzling. "wanna nap?"

Impulse nodded, kissing Comic's neck as he closed his sockets again.

"love ya too..." Comic purred, his hands still kneading, gentle and slow.

Impulse was glad he didn't have the reserves to blush, because that genuine affection would have been his undoing. Instead, he drifted off, safe and comfortable in Comic's arms.


	28. Day 27: First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | Degradation | Gun Play | Against a wall  
**Kinks:** Exhibitionism | Voyeurism | Gun Play | Against a wall  
**Pairing:** Outertale!Sans / Mafiafell!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; mild dubcon; minor character death
> 
> Impulse discovers some kinks he didnt know he had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.6k of bad ideas

Impulse flipped his book of sheet music closed, swallowing a lump in his throat that his glass of water couldn't quite wash away. The clock on the wall said it was nearly midnight. He should have started for home hours ago (6 at the latest), but his boss had been insistent he stay and keep playing thanks to the the arrival of some unexpected guests.

Impulse had been surprised at the culture he and his people had found when they came back to earth, one where monsters already walked among humans. It had been easy to integrate themselves, to enter society and start building new lives... or at least it was for most of them. Impulse and his brother had been hit hardest of all by the change in environment, losing their health and their voices. It was so bad that Impulse couldn't even wear certain clothes (the fabric too heavy or the belts too tight, straining his fragile body and leaving painful bruises and fractures). As a result, most of his wardrobe was dresses now (while his brother, made of slightly sterner stuff, could manage with slacks).

So there Impulse was, at one of the few jobs he had been able to find (playing piano at a bar), and all he could feel was the looming threat of nightfall and the burning of eyes on his back. Whenever Impulse had paused to take a drink or look over his shoulder, he saw them: the group that his boss had been so insistent on pleasing, human men in seemingly nice suits with not so nice smiles.

Finally, though, they got up to leave, dropping a wad of cash on the table and heading for the door. Impulse let some of his tension ease, writing a quick note before packing his things into his bag and standing up to ask his boss if he could stay in the bar overnight.

He wasn't going outside with the sky so dark, not if he had a choice.

He handed the note over to his boss, who had been counting the money. His boss read it quickly before looking at Impulse. "Stay overnight? Don't you have a ride home? I can call you a cab."

Impulse shook his head, pointing at the note again.

"I'm sorry, J, but theres no way I can do that... There isn't anywhere for you to sleep, and no offense, but I have to lock up and I can't give you a key to let yourself out in the morning..." He folded the note up. "I'll call you a cab."

Impulse sighed, nodding. He sat down to wait a few minutes before heading out to catch his ride.

He was almost to the door when a gentle hand alighted on his shoulder. Impulse turned to see one of the regulars, a skeleton monster in a pinstripe suit, whose tie was always a little crooked and loose. His false tooth was always catching the light when he moved, or smiled just right, standing out among the rest of his sharp fangs. He was sweating more than Impulse thought the heat would account for, his eyelights gentle and elongated slightly to express that his smile was reaching them. Impulse remembered he tipped well. "hey doll, pretty late fer ya aint it? lemme walk ya out?"

Impulse hesitated. The guy smiled ruefully. "dun' want ya hittin' yer head if ya swoon out there alone, yeah?"

Impulse gulped, nodding slowly. The guy smirked, tipping his hat slightly. "call me red, doll. ya got a name?"

Impulse took Red's hand, turning it palm up, then drew a shape with his finger: a straight horizontal line at the top, with a vertical line coming down from the middle of it, only to curve left into a hook.

"line? t? j?" Red guessed as Impulse wrote. Impulse nodded at the latter, making a slightly different gesture, poking a dot, then making a left curving hook under that. Red smirked. "j. pleasure's all mine, doll."

Impulse nodded, swallowing uselessly. The guy thought he was a girl, which was something Impulse had gotten used to since his change in wardrobe (and in the long run, it was probably a blessing that that was the default, given his fragility), but for once the person was _cute_ and _charming_. That was... suspicious. But not unwelcome.

Red linked arms with Impulse politely, opening the door to let Impulse out first. Impulse kept his head down, eyes on his mary-janes. His whole body was shaking, seeing how dark it was in the alley just outside the door.

So dark, in fact, that he wouldn't have seen the figures lurking until it was too late, even if he _had_ looked up. Before Impulse knew what was happening, he and Red were surrounded by the group of humans that had so flustered his boss all day. 

"Hey there, pussycat. Let us walk you home," one the humans said, holding his hand out to Impulse. The intent radiating from him matched his smile, something insincere and, while not overtly malicious, lacked good intent like the void lacked light.

Impulse stiffened, looking at the hand and following up his arm with his eyes until-

Until he saw a few speckles of starlight over the thug's shoulder. Shaking, Impulse ducked his head again, looking at the ground and his own shoes and reminding himself that gravity was holding him firmly in place. He felt light headed and a little nauseous.

"sorry, pal, this here's my lil sheba," Red said, his other arm coming around to curl around Impulse and pull him closer.

"I think you'll find she's a smart girl that will come with us," the goon replied, pulling out a gun.

Red chuckled, his grin going as tight as Impulse's nerves. "i think she's a smart lil kitten myself," Red hummed, "'n a good one wut'll lemme do whatever i wanna with her." Red tilted Impulse's head up to look at him. "ain't that right, doll? gonna trust me?"

Impulse felt the thrum of benign intent in the fingers guiding his chin. He could hear it, a legitimate question. Impulse could trust Red to do what he had to to get them out of this, out of a situation where they were outnumbered three to one, or he could _not_ do that... and..?

Impulse couldn't think of anything. So he nodded, deciding to trust in Red's plan and hope his faith was rewarded.

Red smiled, a faint tint of pink streaking over his nasal ridge and under his sockets, before he schooled his face, and leered at the mobsters accosting them. "so hows about i give ya a lil show, eh? show ya what this choice bit o' calico has t' offer?"

The humans looked between them, before the leader smirked, and nodded, gesturing.

Red turned back to Impulse, murmuring a soft, "back up," as he carefully guided Impulse backward. Impulse let him lead, until he felt the pressure of a cold wall behind him, leaving him sandwiched between Red and the opposite building. Red took his hat off, placing it on Impulse's and tilting it down to somewhat cover his sockets. "hands against th' wall, kitten. there ya go. good girl," red crooned as Impulse complied.

Then Red's hands began to wander, starting at his ribs through his dress, sliding down to settle on Impulse's pelvis. Impulse shivered, tensing. _That was what Red had in mind._ Impulse had no idea how _that_ was going to help, but he said he'd trust Red, so he would.

Impulse was starting to feel dizzy, so it was a good thing he was against the wall, able to at least try to hold himself upright.

One of Red's hands stayed on Impulse's hip, kneading tenderly at the bone through the fabric, while the other slid down Impulse's leg until it could grip the hem of his dress. "sure look good in this lil number, but i'm bettin' there's somethin' even nicer underneath." He slowly drew the hem up, exposing more and more of Impulse's bare body to view, until he pressed the fabric to Impulse's teeth. "hold this fer me, would ya?"

Another _question_. Red was checking in on him as much as he could. Maybe that was naive, but it was how Impulse chose to see it. If he was wrong, it wasn't like he had the power to change anything anyway. It was terrifying, having to trust in someone else for your safety and well being.

Impulse parted his teeth, gripping the fabric as requested.

Red smirked, thumbing at Impulse's cheek. Then his hand went down between Impulse's legs, and thumbed at his bare pubic symphysis. "no panties? naughty girl. now hows 'bout ya gimme somethin' t' pet, eh?"

Impulse shivered. The intent in those hands on him, to calm, to relax, intent to protect, apologetic and sure, was nothing like the tone of his voice. Impulse wasn't sure which was the lie, which was the show, but he'd already put his money on Red, so he took a deep breath and tried to comply.

With great effort, Impulse made the expected pussy. What Impulse himself wasn't expecting was just how wet it was, liquid dripping down his leg.

"Woah-" One of the humans gasped.

"Did you know they could do that?!"

"'Course I did, why did ya think I wanted her?"

Impulse felt dizzy again, embarrassment hitting him as he was reminded that all those humans could see him in this shameful state. He grit his teeth.

"thems th' berries," Red purred, pulling his hand away to duck into his coat. "i got yer favorite toy here, too." He pulled out a pistol, shiny and _real_.

Impulse gasped, going rigid, unable to look away from it. The humans bristled, tensing at the sight, a few drawing their own weapon. Red showed it off, spinning the loading chamber playfully before placing it between Impulse's legs. He started grinding it up into Impulse' careful and slow at first. Impulse couldn't stop from flinching at the cold of the metal. The humans slowly relaxed, putting their own weapons away to continue enjoying the show.

After a few seconds, Impulse felt that barrel catch on his clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through him, making his back arch. Red smirked, pressing into that spot more firmly, starting to tease and toy with Impulse's clit using the barrel of his gun. "yeah, see? there ya go, doll. it's yer favorite aint it? gonna go nuts on my gun, aintcha?"

Impulse felt his chest heaving just a little bit faster, his legs spreading wider. His toes curled, heat he didn't know he still had building and tensing like a coiled spring in his pelvis. He couldn't believe himself. He was _going to cum_ on a gun while complete strangers watched in a back alley, and a part of him was enjoying it.

Red sped up his work, grinding a little harder, a little faster, although not as much as the exaggerated motions of his arm would expect.

Impulse's knees threatened to buckle. He squeezed his sockets shut, turning his head away in an attempt to hide. _He was so close, so close, he was going to-_

Abruptly, the gun was pulled away from him, and he heard six shots ring out in the otherwise silent night air. Six screams, followed by six wet thumps, then silence.

"it's a'aight now. ya can let go," Red's voice finally said.

Impulse dropped the hem of his skirt, pulling the hat off his head to look. Sure enough, every single human was now lying dead on the ground, shot through the head. Red had pulled out a handkerchief, cleaning the gun of both soot and the mess of Impulse's magic.

"sorry 'bout that, doll," Red mumbled, averting his gaze. "six was a bit too many t' get without some kinda distraction. not if i was gonna keep ya safe, 'n yer so fragile i couldn't damn well risk it..." His face was glowing bright pink in the darkness, getting more vibrant as he began to ramble. "hope it wasn't... too terrible. know it's magnitudes better 'n what them punks do t' their dames, but that ain't no excuse t' be ungentlemanly... sorry ya got caught up in all this... dun' worry. this place is my turf. i ain't lettin' scum like that near no more. yer gonna be safe 'n, uh, stuff..."

Impulse could still feel the coil in his pelvis, could feel the damp stickiness soaking his femurs. He stumbled towards Red, catching himself from a fall by grabbing Red's arm. Impulse's legs were still shaking, but he managed to stay upright at least.

Red put his gun away quickly, using both hands to support Impulse. "hey, doll, careful, did i hurt ya?"

Impulse shook his head, hoping to dispel his concerns.

Red smiled sheepishly, pulling out a second handkerchief and using it to dry Impulse's face. "ya did real good. wasn't no fun back there, but ya took it like a champ. just sorry thats yer first impression o' me..."

Impulse shook his head, taking Red's hand in his and squeezing, trying to impart as much gratitude as he could. Sometimes people had to make tough decisions, but their intentions mattered too. Impulse wasn't hurt, nobody had touched him without his say so, and if some got a look he wasn't comfortable with, then they paid for it (of course he wasn't going to think about _how_ they payed, because he didn't want to go through the agony of breaking his own ribs trying to throw up [again]).

Red's face went brighter still, and he looked away again before turning back to Impulse. "think th' noise scared yer cabby. want me t' walk ya home?"

Impulse nodded.

Red brought Impulse's knuckles to his teeth, a chaste, affectionate thing, before wrapping an arm around Impulse's waist and starting to walk. "just point th' way, doll, i gotcha."

Impulse believed it, and that sounded like an excellent plan. A shame his body decided that it wasn't, turning the world on it's head and blacking out Impulse's vision as all the excitement and exertion caught up with him. He felt Red catch him, scooping him up maiden style as he yelped in alarm. "j? j?? y'a'aight??"

Impulse would have tried to answer him, but his precarious hold on consciousness gave out.

* * *

Red swore, cradling the other in his arms. He'd finally gotten the courage to try and ask J out, or at least _talk_ to her, and _this_ happens! He really did have the worst luck with the ladies. Men too, apparently, if his judge of J's sacrum had been any indication. He hadn't been expecting that, but he wasn't exactly complaining either.

Now, J was more vulnerable than ever, and he had no idea where she- he- they- lived, but he couldn't damn well leave them just anywhere. He'd had to be overly forward as it was, crossing lines that he wasn't supposed to get to cross until at least the third date, but he would have to cross another and bring J home with him.

J _seemed_ well enough (besides fainting), so maybe if he apologized hard enough, J might give him a chance to do things right. Maybe a movie? Or dinner? Dare he ask for a picnic? He'd likely screwed the pooch already (and if that were the case, he was going to hunt down every last one of those bastard's gang and exact some fair recompense in the form of their lifeblood), but a guy could dream.

Red started walking home, cradling the lithe, slender thing in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Impulse's people come down from space to find a 1920-1960s esque earth with monsters already around and just. slide in. quietly. but that means theres still. um. problems. like misogyny and lack of ASL. he's doing his best
> 
> red's trying but he's honestly an ends-justify-means kinda guy even if he regrets it. results. he really does just wanna woo the little fallen star all nice like. i dont think finding a dude under there bothered him. ;)


	29. Day 28: Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Omorashi | Stripping/Striptease | Vore | Humiliation  
**Kinks:** Omorashi | Humiliation | Exhibitionism | Tentacles  
**Pairing:** Underlust!Sans / Nightmare  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; dubcon; noncon onlookers
> 
> Kink is humiliated for the first time in his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~900 words of TRASH ITS GARBAGE ITS AWFUL BS DONT READ WIJEGNKWRUGHNWOLFIJNEWGKJWHRGNLRGJN

Kink tried to turn his head away, to somehow block out the eyes he knew were watching. His face was burning in humiliation (a new experience for him, considering he'd never done anything in his life that he'd felt shame about, and he'd done _a lot_ of things).

Kink was in Nightmare's lap, held in place by the tentacles curled around his neck, arms, and legs. Kink's arms were held behind his back, and his legs were spread open, hooked over Nightmare's own as he sat on his throne. That in and of itself was neither unusual nor noteworthy.

The fact that they had an audience tonight was very unusual. Horror and Dust were ordered to kneel in front of the throne. Their eyelights burned with a mixture of hunger and outrage, watching Kink with unspoken promises. He tried not to look, to pretend this was just Nightmare's usual, private (delightful) torment, but it was hard not to feel the pressure of their presence.

Tonight, in another diversion from the norm, Nightmare wasn't tentacle fucking him into oblivion, but instead had begun forcing him to drink from the many teas and juices he'd accumulated. At first, it hadn't been so bad, just a few drinks here and there that hadn't been to Kink's taste, hardly the worst that Nightmare had put him through.

Nightmare himself was rather quiet during the whole affair, the only sound that of Kink's heavy breathing, the wet noises of Nightmare's tentacles, whenever they moved (which wasn't nearly enough, the fact they weren't touching him was driving Kink mad), and the outraged rattling of Horror and Dust.

After a certain point, Kink was made aware of a growing pressure that settled in his middle and pelvis. Pressure in that area wasn't new, but the _type_ was. To Kink's growing horror, he realized the drinks were _physical_, sitting heavy in his stomach as his magic broke it down to usable energy.

As more was poured down his throat, more of Kink's ecto stretched out over him. Nightmare had used a few tendrils to force Kink to make a pussy, and again, this wasn't particularly strange.

But Kink's middle became bloated, heavy with liquid, and he felt himself growing wetter and wetter despite not being touched. He felt a tingling pressure, culminating into a singular point between his legs, demanding release.

"n-nightmare, plea-" Kink tried to beg, only to have another drink poured into his mouth. Nightmare's tendrils held his head tilted up and back, keeping his jaw pried open and rubbing his neck to force him to swallow.

"That is Master or Lord Nightmare to you," Nightmare reminded him. Kink squirmed, trying to keep a hold on that pressure that only built stronger. His legs tried to clench shut, but the tentacles held them open, and perversely spread them wider in punishment for his attempts to defy them.

When Kink had managed to swallow the last of this latest drink, he coughed and tried again. "m-master, please, i can't take anymore." _Please touch him! Please let him go!_ Kink couldn't tell what he wanted anymore.

Nightmare remained silent behind him for a moment, but Kink could practically feel his grin in the air. "Really? Then I suppose we can being our usual routine." And although Kink couldn't look down to see it, he felt a tentacle prod at his folds, making an obscenely loud squelching sound.

Dust and Horror's eyelights flared, both of their faces flushed in a mixture of desire and rage.

Kink whimpered. The contact and friction after being denied so long was everything his body wanted, but it magnified that pressure, making it harder to hold it in. "please, let me- let me go to the bathroom first. i'll come back, i swear, just-" Kink cut off in a moan as his tender, slick, sensitive folds were slowly forced to spread as Nightmare's tentacle eased in, slower than he had ever done before. Kink's back arched, the pressure (and pleasure) magnified threefold. _Was he going to cum?! He hadn't been so much as touched all night and just this much was going to make him cum?!?! He couldn't- he didn't want to cum from this- from- from-!!_ Kink fought it with every last shred of his self control, writhing in Nightmares lap uselessly, spread open in every sense and ready to burst.

Nightmare chuckled, his hand coming around to rub circles into Lust's stomach. "Come now. You really shouldn't hold back so much. Having stage fright in front of our audience? And here I thought you three were getting along _so well_."

A cold shudder ran down Kink's overheated spine. _He knew-!!_

Nightmare abruptly put pressure on Kink's stomach, at the same time he started to fuck into him in earnest. Kink screamed, his vision whiting out in agonizing bliss as the pressure built inside him was forced to relieve itself, and he came.

At the same time, a different wetness streamed from him, like he was squirting, but with significantly more expelled. Kink's face flushed in shame as he realized what he'd just done, been forced to do, in front of witnesses.

Nightmare chuckled. "Disgusting, aren't you?" He threw Kink off his lap, face first into the black slime that coated every inch of Nightmare's throne room. "Now get out, all of you."

Kink tried to stand, his legs still useless from his orgasm. Dust picked him up, carrying him under his arm, uncaring of the mess of various fluids covering his body. Dust moved stiffly, grip just on the right side of painfully tight. Horror walked beside them, tense and twitching, sticking as close to Kink as he could without tripping Dust or himself.

Kink could only imagine what they were going to do with him as he hung there on the precipice of passing out, but at least he would know that, whatever it was, _they_ would be doing it out of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as much as night torments kink, kink is... sort of into it. but he knows thats messed up and he's ashamed. he's also freaking out because he now knows Night is aware of his relationship and jfc thats scary


	30. Day 29: Afterparty Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Glory hole | Double (Or more) Penetration | Sleepy Sex | Massage  
**Kinks:** Sleepy Sex | Massage | Aftercare | Frottage | D/s  
**Pairing:** Curtain Call (Reapertale!Sans / After!Dance!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;
> 
> Sequel to [Day 19: Meanwhile, Also at the Party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50175104). A very tired Reaper gets pampered and loved on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1k of genocide dance tending to his little godling

Reaper sagged face down into the nest of pillows, blankets and comforters he'd collected for Dance in the Save Screen, groaning softly as he stretched his arms and wings out in relief. After being confined for so long, so tightly, he ached like nobody's business.

Dance knelt beside him, resting a careful hand on Reaper's neck. "ya did great, tonight," he murmured, voice a low, pleased rumble that sent shivers down Reaper's spine.

Reaper bucked his hips, grinding weakly against the cushions under him. He _still_ hadn't gotten off, at all, all night, and his magic burned for just a little relief.

Reaper got a gentle spank on his rear. "no, none of that," Dance scolded. "i'm in control here, remember?"

Reaper remembered. He turned his head, making a throaty coo, a soft begging noise, calling, pleading for his love to make it better. He felt the tears of frustration in his sockets, his sight getting blurry again for the only-stars-knew-how-many-ith time that night.

Dance leaned in, licking a slow trail along Reaper's jaw until he was in the right position for a deep, slow kiss. Reaper moaned into it, feeling his hips move against his will. He threw his aching arms around Dance, pulling himself closer, trying to drown himself in his love.

Dance broke the kiss, smirking in that way that drove Reaper crazy. "lay still for me, baby. i've got ya."

Reaper trilled, nuzzling into Dance's lap. "i know... you have me forever," Reaper promised, fluffing his wings happily, only to hiss as a jolt of pain went through him. He was really sore!

Dance made low noise of sympathy, shifting out from under Reaper to instead straddle his back. "lets take care of his first, hmm?" There was the sound of bones popping as Dance stretched, and then his hands were on Reaper, gentle and loving and sweet, stroking at his shoulders and scapulae to work out tension. Reaper went limp, moaning a slow, slurred obscenity at just how _good_ that felt, how right.

"thats it, dove," Dance purred, working up and down Reaper's spine, "just like that." Reaper ended up dozing, only to be woken up somewhat by a light but firm tap to his hip. "i said hold still, baby."

Reaper whined. He hadn't even meant to move, his hips seemed to have a mind of their own! "sorry, love. you just make me wanna move..."

Dance chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle into Reaper's neck. "you're doing great. just a bit longer."

Then Dance's hands moved to Reaper's wings. Reaper gasped, his whole body trembling as Dance kneaded at his right scapulars, working tension out of the false flesh beneath while carefully smoothing out the feathers. His hands roamed up and further right, working at the biceps under his marginal coverts, still being as careful as possible to not damage the feathers on top, before smoothing them all out from the marginal coverts the secondaries, grooming him, _preening him_. Reaper was in _heaven_, a quivering puddle of very comfortable, very aroused skeleton.

Blissed out and exhausted as he was, Reaper barely noticed when Dance moved around his wings, only really cognizant that Dance's hands were on him, loving him, and his _dick ached_ for him. Reaper tried to beg, but all he seemed to be able to do was moan Dance's name.

Dance purred, leaving small kisses and kitten licks along Reaper's spine. "can you lay on your back, baby? it feel okay?"

Reaper flexed his wings, sighing happily at how the soreness had been rolled out for the most part, and carefully spun to lay on his back. He had to admit, as good as his massage was, he liked seeing His Lovely a little more. The way Dance smiled down at him, eyelights raking up and down his form, made Reaper feel less like the harbinger of the end, and more like something wanted.

Dance made him feel _wanted_.

After leaning in for another languid, relaxing kiss, Dance pulled out his own dick, pressing it against Reapers and wrapping his hand around both. Reaper gasped, bucking up, only to get shushed. "relax, i told ya, i got this." He gave the both of them a gentle squeeze, before starting to move his hand.

Electric pleasure shot up Reaper's spine. The familiar, comforting thrum of Dance's magic, red as blood and just as warm, coupled with the cool glide of his clever fingers, had him at Dance's mercy. His own hands went to hold onto Dance's hip, needing some kind of grounding.

Dance's smirk had softened with his own pleasure, the hunger in his eyelights intensifying. "my god-"

"y-yes, my lovely?" Reaper joked, winking. Or he thought he was winking. The world was slow, as everything was when he was this relaxed, this comfortable, this tired, this loved.

Dance flushed harder, the implications of the answer (that Reaper was his, willingly, always and forever) never failing to to fluster him. The sight of his precious overwhelmed with emotion always sent a thrill through Reaper, making him want to tease more. Any attempt to continue, however, was punched out of him when Dance retaliated by stroking them both harder, tighter, more viciously.

"don't _say things like that!!_" Dance practically whined, still jerking them both off in earnest.

"no promises~" Reaper mewled between stutter breaths. His toes were starting to curl, his back arching. _He was so close_. "d-dance, please, can i-??"

"go ahead, reaps," Dance growled, moving his hand faster still, starting ti use his thumb on the head, spreading both of their pre over them. "come for me. cum because _i_ made ya."

Reaper didn't need to be told twice. He tipped over the edge, coming all over Dance's hand, finally satisfying the ache he'd had for hours. His vision whited out, leaving Reaper dizzy. When he finally blinked back his sight, it was to the _absolute vision_ of Dance licking his hand clean, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Reaper tugged gently, and Dance took the hint, crawling up to curl in Reaper's arms for afterglow cuddling. Reaper curled his wings around them both, chirping contentedly as he nuzzled and kissed his love all over, face and neck and shoulder. Dance whined, only to pull Reaper into a deeper kiss with tongue.

It was a good kiss, heady with the lingering taste of their pleasure still clinging to Dance's teeth. Pleased, Reaper curled inward more, burying his face in the crook of Dance's neck, the best place in the multiverse to have a restful sleep.


	31. Day 30: Territory Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Gagging | Stockings/Tights/Pantyhose | Breast Worship | Swallowing  
**Kinks:** Gagging | Swallowing | Fellatio | Cuckolding | Splitroasting | Biting | Exhibitionism | Voyeurism  
**Pairing:** SpicyKustard (Undertale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underfell!Papyrus) & BBQKetchup (Undertale!Sans / Swapfell!Papyrus)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; incest; dubcon;
> 
> written in the style of, and makes references to, the [ain't this the life](https://archiveofourown.org/series/896544) series by [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance). Meant to theoretically take place sometime after [part 31: heavy with mood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703179).
> 
> The multiverse just can't seem to let Sans catch a break. But at least he has something long and red to fall back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by a discord prompt and went spinning crazily out of control into a terrible ~9k monstrosity of a chapter and I dont know what i'm doing with my life. also trying to write another person's character dynamic is super hard and doing it in another person's style is even harder and i fucked it up so go read nil's actual shit because its way better also i am tired

Edge felt the smirk curl unbidden on his face as he leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching what he would have to rank as his third favorite sight in all of creation.

Red and Sans were curled up on the couch, limbs tangled in that way only two stoners who had intimate knowledge of each other's bodies (or a pair of particularly affectionate cats) could manage. Sans was tucked under Red's chin, sockets closed as his chest rose and fell in a steady, calm rhythm. Red wasn't much better, sockets only cracked open enough to have his eye on Sans, that deep, primal satisfaction oscillating in his ribcage to come out like the engine of a motorcycle he secretly admired. Red rubbed his face over the top of Sans' skull, then, with as much reverence as a godless man could ever muster, brought the wrist where Sans still had Edge's collar wrapped securely up to his cheek, nuzzling into both the palm of Sans' hand and the treated leather with the sort of territorial pride one would think long bred out of sapient creatures.

Edge had all of five seconds to bask in the moment, before the world turned on its head. One instant Edge was in his own home, the next he was _not_, no matter how similar it may have appeared. He felt that split fraction of an instant where he knew he was not in control, freefalling and struck by intense vertigo, only for it to come to an abrupt halt, knocking his feet out from under him.

Then he was struck over the head by something, and the world went black.

The next thing he knew, Edge was blinking a persistent darkness from his vision, his skull aching from the strike he had not seen coming. His pride hurt far worse, and a quick self check showed he hadn't lost a single hit point (or if he had, it had healed itself). A longer, more detailed evaluation showed that his circumstances were a tad more alarming than he could have hoped: he could feel the weight of thick cuffs on his wrists and ankles, buzzing with the tech to suppress his magic. There would be no breaking out of them. Worse, his arms were pinned over his head, securing him to the wall he was slumped against. The indignity of having something thick stuffed in his mouth, tasting faintly of leather, was only icing on the proverbial shit cake.

A soft rattling on Edge's right drew his attention. He turned his head, blinking the sight of his brother, similarly trussed up in irons and pinned to the wall like a calendar that might have been trying to look sexy but failed in the expression. The noise Edge had heard was the shaking of Red's chains as his fists trembled. Red's whole body was tense as a guitar string ready to snap at the first attempt at being played, the exact opposite of what Edge had seen before the universe picked up their snowglobe and shook it. His brother's eyelights flared to vivid stopsigns as he stared straight ahead. There was a gag in his mouth, a cumbersome rubber thing that his teeth had already begun to destroy, shredding as he ground down with his sharp fangs. His expression was one of utter fury, animalistic vitriol that Edge knew meant there would be a rather messy murder on his hands soon enough.

When Edge followed his gaze, he understood, the same territorial outrage ripping through Edge's every pore, filling him, and for a split second, Edge lost his grip on his carefully manicured control, his body moving without his permission, a lunge that was held up short by his bindings. Edge scrambled to beat down the fury, the mindless rage, wrangling back his control with the wherewithal of a zookeeper tending to a starved lion.

In front of them was Sans, thankfully, _blessedly_ alive and unharmed. A weight on Edge's shoulders lifted, having confirmed both Red and Sans were still in one piece. The issue (and the heavy, cloying dread and fury in Edge's soul said it was a _big issue_) was that Sans was not alone by any means. Looming over him, hands on his throat as they clipped a collar around it, was a tall figure wearing a long black coat, the hem and hood lined by faded yellow fluff and padding that had seen better days.

Edge knew that the collar being clipped onto that exhaulted place Sans called a neck wasn't the one _he_ had given Sans (seeing it still safe on his wrist where it belonged). The idea of someone else trying to claim Sans as their own made Edge's marrow boil and sing with the demand for violence.

The click of the buckle was like an alarm, and Sans' limp body began to stir from its spot on the couch.

The low chuckle from the figure who had trespassed on Edge's territory sent a shiver down his spine, a low key terror and confusion not unlike seeing a face reflected in clear glass, distorted and foreign until it was brought into focus as your own.

Sans looked up at the figure, at a much better angle to see into the fur lined hood. His expression was one Edge had hoped never to see again, a perverse recognition hidden behind a mask of indifference, innocuous by itself, but a clear indication on Sans that something was very, possibly catastrophically, _wrong_.

"mornin', darlin'," came the low drawl. "hope yer comfortable. we gotta have a lil chat." The sentiment was punctuated by slender fingers clipping a leash to the collar erroneously coiled around Sans' throat.

Edge didn't miss the way his brother's body jerked, a muted growl coming from him that Edge could easily imagine being born as a string of obscenities articulating in graphic detail what anatomical locations the leash would be better off being relocated.

Sans' grin sat taunt on his face, and maybe nobody else would have noticed how his one hand went to feel, not the weight around his neck, but the weight on his wrist, thumbing the leather that buzzed with Edge's magic. The vulnerable motion was simultaneously gut-wrenching and satisfying, a sick part of Edge's soul taking pride that _he_ was the one that gave Sans comfort, instead of being horrified that he needed said comfort to being with. As if the thought had somehow drawn his attention, Sans's eyelights flicked to one side, taking Edge and Red in. There was a flash of emotion, the briefest crack in his mask, like headlights from a passing car speeding by the bedroom window in the dead of night, blindingly bright for by a moment before moving on, leaving Edge unable to determine what it was he saw long after it was gone.

The figure tugged on the leash, drawing Sans' attention back to him. "eyes on me, darlin'. dont ya worry about them. if this is all some misunderstandin', they'll be fine."

"heh," Sans' laugh was dry, humorless. "not really worried about them." The emphasis was so subtle Edge could have easily missed it: Sans wasn't worried about _Red and Edge_. He had faith in them. He trusted them. Knowing Sans, he was more worried about whether or not Edge would be adding to his EXP. He was both admirably astute and infuriatingly foolish. "hi. i'm sans."

"i noticed," the figure hummed, holding the leash taunt as he reached to stroke Sans' cheek. Edge tried to will those unworthy fingers to dust.

Sans looked like he was ready to bolt, tense and skittish and no longer breathing quite so evenly. Edge would have preferred it if he had. He tried to tell him as much, the command to run bastardized into garbled incoherence. The noise drew Sans' attention back to him for a brief moment, the look on his face one Edge had hoped he wouldn't see again. The phantom ring of ceramic hitting a distant kitchen floor rings damning in his skull.

This time, Sans doesn't bolt.

Edge cannot for the life of him fathom why.

"ARE THEY AWAKE??" A voice calls from the other room, a voice that again nags at Edge's mind, a distorted reflection he cannot discern through the fog.

"yes, m'lord," the taller one calls, turning. It is then that Edge sees his face, and flinches. The face is angular, with prominent cheekbones and a noble brow ridge, handsome in its own way. Edge thinks so, because it is his own face, in the way that Papyrus' face is his face, and that Red's face is Sans' face; the same, and yet so very different. This one has scars and sharp teeth, but both of his upper canines are missing, replaced with false ones in dull gold. When he sees Edge looking, the cocky smirk looks foreign and out of place on his face, something Edge had grown used to seeing on his brother's more than in his own reflection.

Edge suddenly understands the conflict that Sans had been suffering through, even though he despises it on a fundamental level. At his side, he can feel Red reevaluating the level of rage he was prepared to unleash. It says something about Red's priorities, that he would balk at striking out against another Papyrus, even now, the shadow of a softness he would break one of Edge's ribs for acknowledging. Edge can't blame him, given his own behavior.

Edge considered that they were all alive and unharmed again through this new information, and wondered if maybe this new creature had the same softness.

The click of distinct footsteps heralded the owner of the other voice. Edge's view started with the leather bitch heels, trailing up to see that, yes, it was another monster with his brother's face, this one scarred from the scratch of claws over his right socket. The smirk, one of confidence and smug satisfaction, fit much better on such a face.

"WHY IS THE FREEXP-" and Edge couldn't help the snarl in his throat any more than Red could have, hearing that term used for Sans- "UNBOUND, MUTT?"

"hard ta put a cuff on him, m'lord," the taller one replied.

The shorter one, Lord, (because Edge needed to put a name of some kind to him, to settle in his mind that he was neither Sans not Red, neither his brother nor his lover, nor the one whom he had offered his affections) snorted, giving the taller, Mutt, a dry, unimpressed look, before turning back to Edge and Red. "NO MATTER. JUST KEEP HIM OCCUPIED WHILE I INSPECT OUR INTRUDERS."

Lord licked his teeth as he strode closer, and Edge felt the shadow of what it was like to be prey, not unlike being pinned by Red's hungry gaze in the quiet of their bedroom. Lord stood in front of where Edge was forced on his knees, looking down at him. Edge went still, glaring at the monster that dared to treat his family so. Lord brought his leg up, slamming the heel of his boot into the wall between Edge's head and his arm with enough force to crack the drywall. Edge did not give him the satisfaction of flinching, nor allowed his gaze to wander below his shoulder height.

Despite the fact that Lord had basically presented himself, open and provocative in his limberness. Why Edge was surrounded by incredibly attractive yet surly, mercurial creatures he would never know. Perhaps it was the multiverse's cruel form of karmic retribution. 

Infuriatingly (and in a fashion that reminded Edge all too much of Red, for good or ill), that only made Lord smile wider. "YES. I LIKE THAT LOOK IN YOUR EYES. FIERCE. PREDATORY." He licked his teeth again. "JUST MY TYPE."

Red's expression and body language telegraphing just how much he was going to bite Edge when this was all over. Edge looked at his brother and felt the full weight of the work he was going to need to put into fixing what today had caused, the tension and the aggression and the bitterness he would have to choke out of him.

Lord gripped Edge's chin, turning him back to face him roughly. "NOW NOW. BAD DOGS DO NOT GET ATTENTION. YOU LOOK AT ME."

Edge saw Sans from the corner of his eye, over Lord's shoulder. Sans was staring back at them with a worryingly blank expression. It was almost dark in nature, yet Edge could not have pointed out what it was about it that made him think so. He was smiling, almost impossibly wide, his eyelights shrinking slightly-

Ah. That was why. It was the same look Red got when he was contemplating murder. How thrilling, to see it on Sans' face.

Lord either did not notice (unlikely) or did not care that Red and Sans were giving him the stink eye. Edge saw Mutt pick Sans up bodily, sitting down on the couch in his place and putting Sans on his lap. "so tell me, darlin', how did a pretty thing like you end up with ruffians like them, huh?"

Sans was stiff, moving mechanically in a fashion that Edge had long associated with him being in pain. "magic," he answered, completely monotone despite making jazz hands.

Mutt laughed.

Lord shook Edge's face to get his attention back. "I SAID LOOK AT ME. NOW. DID YOU COME HERE TO ATTACK US?"

Edge shook his head, given the gag prevented any civil conversation.

"DID YOU COME HERE TO TRY AND TAKE ONE OF US FOR RANSOM?"

Again Edge shook his head.

"DID YOU COME HERE FOR ASYLUM?"

Edge fought to keep from rolling his eyelights, shaking his head a third time.

"mlord."

"WHAT?!" Lord turned. "CAN YOU NOT SEE I AM BUSY??"

"this sweet thing is collared, but hardly smells like them."

Edge recalled the whole reason why Red and Sans had been high on the couch to begin with: Sans had been avoiding sex for some slight Red had dealt, prickly and spiteful and passive aggressive as any creature Edge could hope to love. Red had been using increasingly desperate methods to coax him back into his bed, with the only result being Sans digging his heels in like a stubborn mule. They'd finally bitched out their grievances while under the influence, stoned into bare honesty, and had been celebrating with a victory nap in the way only they could. It had been a week.

A week was plenty of time for Red's marks on Sans to fade.

"IF THAT IS THE CASE, MAYBE AS PUNISHMENT FOR TRESSPASSING, WE SHOULD SHOW THEM HOW TO TREAT A PET PROPERLY."

"show what?" Sans failed to parrot, the absurdity of it all shorting out his short term memory in a way Edge wished he could mimic, if only so he didn't have the words on loop in his skull.

Mutt thumbed at Sans' chin, smirking, a dirty look that brought a faint flush of orange to his face. "hows 'bout it, darlin'? want me ta show ya how pets oughta be treated?"

"MIND YOURSELF MUTT," Lord warned as he stood back from Edge. "INEXPERIENCED CREATURES NEED A DELICATE HAND." He sauntered out of the room, headed back in the direction he'd come.

Edge had to have been hearing incorrectly. This had to be some kind of fever dream. Did his LV twist up and start eating at his cognitive processes?

Sans' whole body relaxed, his head tilting to one side. Edge couldn't see his face, but he knew that body language, the easy curve of his spine, how it made his shoulder-blades and hips stand out under his clothes, how it made him look just as small and frail as he really was. Edge could imagine the face he was making, playful, friendly, resigned, utterly fake innocence hiding a dangerously shrewd mind.

Edge guiltily hoped it was the last face Assgore had seen before he died.

"how do pets get treated?" Sans asked, like he wasn't picking up on the mood, like he wasn't three steps ahead of them and planning for three more.

"well," Mutt purred, eyelights flaring as he looked Sans up and down, drinking him in, looking at him the same way Red did, that Edge had to fight not to. "pets 'r meant to serve. ya look pretty enough ta serve a very special purpose too."

"special, huh?" Sans shrugged. "whats in it for me? you're not the one who-" He held up his wrist, wiggling it gently to indicate the collar still attached there, not even acknowledging the one around his neck, the one tethering him to the smug bastard by the leash. Something about how _their_ collar didn't even register as meaning a god damn thing to Sans made Edge's soul flutter with a satisfying pride. "ya know, i accepted and all. what ya gonna give me if i do this oh so special thing, huh?"

Mutt's posture stiffened, for just a brief moment, as if struck. Edge took vindictive glee in see the rejection affect him. Shame Mutt shook it off so quick with a smile. "tell ya what, darlin'. do a good job and i'll ask mlord real nice not ta break no fingers."

Edge saw the tension crawl up Sans' spine, an invisible spider leaving its web of tension, at the evocative imagery, the icy prickle of a memory he wasn't supposed to have seen thrashing in the box of stolen treasures he could never take back. Sans' one hand twitched, where Edge knew one joint was just a little bit crooked and ached on occasion.

"heh. welp. can't argue with that. whats this special thing i gotta do?"

Edge could hear the joke Sans couldn't say, could hear in his head that teasing cadence while he casually said, just offhand, _'kinda need those fingers to, you know, finger me.'_ It was a joke he would have used to distract from the discomfort he never wanted to show, foretoken and betoken of a change in subject too quickly to know the subject meant to be avoided (had one been unfamiliar with the signature form of bullshit that seemed to be standard dealings with anyone who ever once went by the name Sans the Skeleton). 

Mutt smirked, picking Sans up from under his arms and setting him down on the floor between Mutt's splayed knees. He kept a firm hold of the leash in one hand, palming his crotch with the other. "i'll be real nice and start ya off easy. just gotta you yer mouth, 'k darlin'?"

Edge still had a shit vantage point to gauge Sans' expressions, but he saw him glance over, face flushed that lovely powder blue that haunted Edge's fantasies. He could hear the smaller try to swallow, before turning back to face Mutt and the glowing bulge he was coaxing.

Red started to quiver. Edge turned to check on him, initially alarmed. It was a kind of perverse relief to see Red was not raging, but instead quivering with repressed laughter. Whether that laughter was the dry, humorless sound few lived to tell of, or the jovial one heard when an inside joke finally threw Red for a loop, he could not tell.

Mutt finally pulled out his dick, a long, ridged thing that looked nothing like Edge's own, from its shape to its burnt sienna color. "this here's a penis-"

That did it. Red cracked, doubling over as far as his bindings would allow and laughing so hard tears pricked at his sockets, glistening in the light for Edge to see. Sans didn't look behind him at them, but the quiver of his shoulders spoke volumes of how much he wanted to join in Red's mirth. Edge maintained his stoicism, but only just.

This man was about to stick his dick into the barrel of a loaded gun, and he had _no idea_.

Edge was less than sympathetic. If he focused on the humor of the situation, he could pretend that his entire being wasn't being suffused in puke green envy.

Mutt gave the two brothers a sideways glance, before smiling back down at Sans. "go ahead, darlin', see how much ya can fit in yer mouth. just do yer best, no pressure."

Edge could hear the snark he couldn't believe Sans managed to keep at bay: _'sorry, but those are mutually exclusive statements.'_ Edge had heard epic tales of Sans' legendary head game, the kind which even Red would wax poetic about, if only to goad Edge into a fury of misdirected arousal. If Red's stories were founded on even a fraction of truth, this was going to go be the surprise of a lifetime.

And it was going to be burned into every corner of Edge's memory, just one more thing to lie away at night and hope he didn't see in his dreams.

* * *

Sans braced himself on Mutt's femurs, moving closer, getting into position. This would be just like the hundreds of other times he'd taken a stranger's dick in his mouth, just any other sunday afternoon.

Sans was starting to marvel at how easily he could bullshit even himself. There was nothing normal about this particular dick sucking. _Edge and Red were both watching_. They were going to watch him take 6 inches of orange and cream popsicle down his throat and choke on it like some fat politician on a communist wishbone.

Something about that was making his magic churn in nervous bubbles, hot and tumultuous. It made keeping up the 40-yr-old-virgin act easier to pull off, since he didn't want Mutt to see it coming.

_Coming_. Yeah. That was low hanging fruit. Just like him.

Sans had hesitated enough.

Leaning forward, Sans gave a few small, brief, testing licks to the head and underside, making certain not to look Mutt in the face. Instead, he took another moment to glance at Red and Edge from his peripheral vision. Red had calmed down somewhat, but Red being able to reason didn't always mean he would be reasonable. Sometimes Red with his head on straight was the most dangerous, if you were on the wrong side of his fucks-to-give line.

It was a very thin line.

Mutt hissed appreciatively, reaching down to stroke over Sans' skull with the same hand holding his leash. "thats right, darlin', just like that, take yer time."

Sans was seriously considering denouncing his vow of pacifism, leaping back into that guy's lap, and knocking a few more of his teeth out, preferably back down his throat so he could choke on the shards. Only some of that was probably his LV talking.

Sans decided that this was taking too long. He needed to get it over with. Taking a deep breath, Sans plunged down onto the latest edition to his cock tasting history, swallowing until he had his nasal ridge pressed right up against the lip of his pants.

Mutt gasped, doubling over as both hands clawed at Sans' skull, desperation and shock gouging at the outermost layer of bone in sparking waves. He shook under Sans, legs quivering hard enough that Sans couldn't hold them still. Sans rolled his eyelights, scoffing with his mouth full of what had to be either virgin cock or cock that had never had a good blowjob in its life. Didn't matter to Sans, the end would be the same either way.

_Sucks_ to be him, though, didn't it.

Sans started to bob his head, using the flat of his tongue for that little bit of extra damp friction. The taste was all wrong (and Sans never expected to think that, to actually have a sort of palate for dong, like some kind of fancy cum tasting snob, but here he was, with a perfectly good dick in his mouth, actually concerned that the flavor wasn't to his preference) but he didn't let that stop him from performing. Sans fell into his usual easy rhythm, performing on muscle memory alone so he could check out mentally and just let it happen.

If Sans happened to carefully pry Mutt's hands off his head, holding them in his own, it certainly wasn't with any forethought, no, of course not.

Soon enough Sans could feel the telltale micro-motions, the throbbing, the extra heat, that meant ejaculation was imminent. Still holding Mutt's hands firmly, Sans pulled back until only the tip of the head was in his mouth, and laved his tongue over it _just right_. He watched Mutt arch back with a curse, coming in Sans' mouth with a shudder, before going limp into the couch cushions, still twitching with the reverb of his afterglow.

Sans pulled off him entirely, disentangling the leash from his hand and turning to spit out every last drop of Mutt's cum onto the carpet. He coughed, trying to get the unfamiliar taste out of his mouth to no avail. He wiped his mouth, blinking over towards the brothers still sitting against the wall, his vision blurred from breathless tears he didn't think necessary and would be filing a complaint to his body about at a later date. "jeeze, it tastes like tobacco and raw sugar. like licking the counter in a 7/11. red, come over here and rinse my mouth out."

Red's gaze bore into Sans, his body trembling as his grin stretched around his gag. He tugged at the shackles still pinning him to the wall, gesturing with his head. To Sans' amusement, there was a glowing scarlet tent in Red's shorts, which he was grinding shamelessly into the carpet.

Sans was pretending he couldn't see the larger tent in Edge's jeans, or the way his eyelights pinned him like crimson daggers, shredding his clothes and the familiar yet unfamiliar weight around his neck with his eyes.

"yeah. right. those. hold on." Sans stood up on numb legs and started patting Mutt down. Sure enough, he found a key in his pocket, dull iron that thrummed uncomfortably in his hand. He shuffled quickly over to the brothers, first to Edge, who accepted the help with as much grace and dignity as a man caught with a voyeuristic stiffy was able.

Before he could unchain Red, however, Edge gripped Sans' shoulder's firmly, a silent request to stay still. Sans swallowed again, nodding softly. As he expected, Edge's slender claws carefully uncinched the buckle on the collar around his neck, tossing it and the leash both aside . Somehow, Sans felt like the negligible weight had been so much greater, the act of it falling away leaving him feeling loose and free, even after so short a time wearing it. "thanks, edgelord."

Such a shame Sans couldn't linger to appreciate the pink dusting Edge's cheekbones, or how nicely _he_ seemed to wear a gag. Right shame. _He needed to stop staring. Now. Stop staring now._

Now, damn it.

When Edge began fumbling with the gag, unhooking it to dislodge from his mouth, Sans turned to Red. "now don't pounce on me till i get these off, okay?" The look Red gave him said 'no promises,' which Sans figured was fair enough. He got the cuffs off, and then started helping Red remove _his_ gag, the rubber disaster having gotten stuck to his teeth from repeated gnawing like one would expect from a rabid dog.

It wasn't 5 seconds after Red's jaw was free of obstruction (during which he'd stretched and shifted it to test that it was still functional, as deadly as ever) that he yanked Sans in for a vicious, predatory kiss, thrusting his tongue down Sans' throat and pulling him into his lap to grind into him. Sans let himself go limp, shaky arms going around Red's neck as the full weight of what was happening finally hit him.

It wasn't a hug. He was holding on so he wouldn't fall over. Red knew that. And if he didn't Sans would just inform him later, maybe with a pillow to the face and his cock in one of his holes (whether Sans meant 'his' as in his own or 'his' as in Red's, even he couldn't be certain, and if he were honest for once in his fucking life, he didn't actually care).

Sans was getting better at the whole honesty thing. Little steps.

The sound of those high heeled boots began to echo, terribly and curious, getting closer as the wearer returned to the livingroom. Red gripped Edge's wrist, and with a terrifying abruptness, dragged them all through a shortcut, his valiant attempt to take them home. Sans clung tighter, hiding his face in Red's shoulder so he wouldn't have to see it coming, if it came.

The face in the darkness.

Red rubbed Sans' back. _An impossible instant of infinity,_ and it was spent tucked as close to Red as possible, nuzzling the collar around Red's throat and trusting he'd keep him safe.

Nothing else had kept him safe besides Red and Edge, and Edge was about as aware in the void as Sans was after being tentacle fucked for three hours.

Sans could feel Red scratching like a rabid animal at the space where the door home should have been, where it wasn't, as if he were trying to shred a new one open out of sheer force of will. The idea that Red would fight the void itself made Sans want to both laugh and cry, nuzzling imperceptibly closer and hoping he wouldn't get bitten for it later.

Or maybe hoping he _would_ get bitten for it later.

Yeah, honesty thing: Sans absolutely wanted bitten, right on his cervical vertebrae, big ol' shark bite with some bruising for decoration.

Something snapped, and with a feeling of being shoved, they were suddenly out of the void, stumbling back into Red and Edge's livingroom.

Red didn't so much sit as fall onto the couch, pulling Edge and Sans with him. Sans could only imagine how weak his legs felt after being pinned down for so long, not that Red would admit any such thing. Sans let out a shuddered breath, settling comfortably in Red's lap and staying in the safe limbo of his shoulder, where he could pretend his mouth didn't still feel slathered in nicotine and maple syrup left in the sun too long.

Red let out a snarl, low and vulgar and quivering in outrage. For a brief moment, he just sat there, arm still crushing Sans into his ribs as he no doubt threatened to break every bone in Edge's wrist. "strip. _now._" Red demanded. "the stink on you-"

"yeah," Sans admitted, pulling back just enough to start pulling off his hoodie. He was about to pull the shirt off, arms crossed and gripping the lower hem, when he froze, realizing with sobering insecurity that Edge was right there.

Red's hand came up to grip Sans' neck. "really need to get shy now?" The hand was firm, but not choking or restricting. Sans had no doubt that Red's weird consent kink would have it falling away if Sans backed up even an inch. Bastard was frustrating like that.

Sans checked on Edge over his shoulder. His soul tightened, feeling pinned down like a fly as those piercing eyelights stripped him without Sans having to do a god damn thing, looking into him and inexplicably judging him not only worthy, but desirable.

Sans couldn't say he understood Edge's taste, but he sure as shit wasn't noble enough to tell him to do better.

Sans leaned forward, pulling his shirt off slowly so Red would have time to let go, allowing him to toss it away. He took a deep breath, which he sighed out in a sort of nostalgic relief. He hadn't realized just how much his shirt had stunk until he was free of it. He must have spit up as much jizz on himself as the carpet. They would probably have to burn the shirt to get the stink out. Hopefully the hoodie could be spared a mercy killing.

If they could get Gaster's damn gunk-print off, a bit of off-colored scrotal fluid should be easy. 

His shorts came off much faster, letting him curl up in Red's lap, feeling the extra warmth he was letting off.

"yeah," Red rumbled, drawing out the vowel in a pleased rasp. "better. now, how'z about we do something about that mouth of yours?"

Sans groaned softly, shimmying down to sit between Red's legs, pawing his shorts down just enough to free the bulge that was already damp and likely uncomfortable. The scent of it, the familiar shape and color, made Sans' mouth water, which only made his desire to get something better in his mouth that much stronger.

"that fucking thirsty for my cock, huh?" Red asked, leering down with that predatory smirk. Sans could still see the edges of his tempestuous rancor still shimmering on the blade of every tooth, in the crevices of his sockets, waiting like an angry viper to strike. Seeing the malice still glittering like indomitable confetti made Sans wonder how hand still on the back of his neck could still have such restraint.

Normally that sort of comment would require one of the many snarky retorts Sans kept on hand for a rainy day. Normally Sans didn't feel like the inside of his mouth had been coated in salty, cum stained peanut butter soaked in tobacco and sugar water.

Sans leaned in to mouth at the side of Red's dick, laving his tongue slow and sweet before taking him, bobbing his head over the first few inches and swirling his tongue in teasing circles. The familiar taste, the musky odor, like a puzzle piece sliding neatly into place, settled heavy in Sans' pelvis. It was almost painful how fast his magic snapped into place, his cunt dripping and clenching in sudden, unbearable need. Sans was acutely aware of how long it had been since Red had fucked him: 6 days, 14 hours, and 20 minutes, give or take. He shivered, the feel of his girth between his teeth reminding him of how it would feel in other places.

Sans looked up at Red, taking great pride in how his head hung back, his neck no better than a pool noodle as he rasped out a rapturous sigh, watching him through slit sockets. "thats fucking right. heh." His grip on Sans' neck tightened, and he yanked Sans down more onto his length, breaching the rapidly forming softness of Sans' summoned throat. Sans couldn't repress his moan, not with his mouth stretched so wide and his throat opened up so perfectly. "didn't-" Red had to stop to stifle a moan of his own, his hips stuttering as he wrangled with a throaty groan that added another tick mark to Sans' side of the scoreboard- "didn't hear you moaning like a bitch in heat around _his_ cock, did we?"

Sans pulled off of Red with a significant amount of reluctance. "don't let it go to your head."

"too late," Red growled. "now get back to it."

Sans gripped Red's femurs, lingering just out of reach. It would have been the simple answer, to just dive back down onto Red and not come up again until he'd killed a few brain cells from lack of air. Simple, easy. But as great as Red's dick was (_and, again with the honesty, Red's dick was amazing, the best damn dick Sans had ever had, always hitting just the right way and making his soul pulse at every thrust, just, a marvel of a dick, and wasn't it a damn shame it was attached to Red? no, not really, damn his honesty, he needed to get back on his bullshit before he actually started saying some of that out loud_), the thing wasn't nearly as long as the one that had left its overly sweet slime inside him. If Sans was going to feel clean again (barring the option of drinking a few gallons of bleach), he'd need something a bit longer.

Sans looked at Edge. _His would be long enough._ Sans was certain of it. And given the intensity of his gaze, how Edge continued to look at him like the weight of his eyes could get him off, he could imagine Edge wouldn't mind helping him out.

Sans caught the flicker of Red's eyelights darting between Sans and Edge, before grinning sharply (or perhaps _sharper_, since there was never a smile on Red's face that couldn't cut through iron). "yeah. i can work with that. boss, hows about ya help me flush his system?"

Edge sucked in a breath, clutching his patella in a white knuckled grip. "SANS?"

"what can i say? need a deep clean," Sans hummed, winking. Edge's hand moved with aching slowness, cupping the glowing bulge throbbing between his legs. Sans crawled over on his knees, settling between Edge's not-quite-as-familiar but still reassuring legs. He felt his summoned muscles spasm, liquid dripping down his legs and down to the carpet as he inched closer to Edge's hidden arousal.

"IF YOU ARE CERTAIN..." Edge said with the calmness of a rubber-band pulled taunt by a pear of anguish, his hands moving with the stiff fluidity of stop motion animation as he carefully freed his erection.

Sans shivered at the sight. Sans had always had a shrug where his willpower should be, yet he had managed to hold back from indulging from going anywhere near Edge's assets for a criminally long time. He supposed he must have paid his self control in advance.

He wasn't going to kill the mood thinking about why he had cashed in on his willpower savings.

Sans gripped the base that he could reach with one hand, bringing it close to his face to nuzzle. "don't worry, edgelord, i'll give it back after."

"sure ya will," Red rumbled, getting behind Sans and rubbing at his hips. "always do."

"and what are you doing back there?" Sans asked, as if he didn't know, as if he wasn't shaking his hips to tempt him further.

"exactly what your pretty little ass is begging for," Red answered, smoothing his palms over Sans' hips and grinding himself over his folds, lubing his girth with Sans' desperate slick, the obscene noises crashing through the air as loud as breaking glass. "god, you're like the damn niagra."

Edge was trying to hold still. Sans knew it because of the involuntary tremors he could feel running through him. Sans smiled. "i never fell that hard for you-"

"thats the best lie yet-"

"WOULD YOU BOTH SH-!!" Edge started to snap, his voice a blade trembling with restrained hunger. The cut off was quick, as quick as Edge himself, turning on a dime, forcing himself to soften the blow Sans knew he never intended to land a hit with. "PLEASE." The raw vulnerability of it clawed down Sans' spine.

Sans opened his mouth as wide as he could, and started swallowing down as much of Edge as he could take. Which, because oral was one of the few things in life Sans had ever been able to do even moderately well, was 'all of it'. The tip breached the first fluttering centimeters of his false throat, and then kept going, deeper and deeper into Sans until he could feel the tears of stress build up on the ridges of his sockets. The muffled panic that came with being prevented from breathing filled his skull with static, which was an added bonus to the comfortable, familiar pressure stuffing him from his shoulders up.

Sans settled in for a long, lazy session of being pleasantly used, slipping into that murky mindset that he associated with being held safe in their arms.

* * *

Red hadn't wanted to leave. Not when the _rat bastards_ that had dared to touch what was his had still been in one piece. First that stubby jackass had made eyes at Edge, which by itself was enough to warrant instant death in Red's book, but then the other one had taken Sans' mouth.

He'd taken Sans' mouth and he hadn't even known what to fucking do with it.

The whole shit show had happened too fast. Red hadn't wanted to leave, but he wanted Sans and Edge to _stay_ a hell of a lot less. Now that they were back, safe (or as safe as they could be, given that whatever the fuck had sent them there in the first place had done so from in their home, and Red was going to rip the universe, the multiverse, to infinitesimal pieces looking for whatever had done it and make sure it couldn't ever do it again, but later, later), Red was going to remind both of them who they belonged to.

Red rolled his hips again, this time making certain to catch Sans' clit with the head of his dick. There was nothing quite like Sans' cunt against his magic, soft and warm and always _so fucking wet_. Sans' usual composure (wall after entertaining wall of bullshit that Red had come to love dismantling like legos to watch Sans' build back up) had been chipped and broken by the latest, infuriating events, but it was _Red_ who had been able to dig his claws into the cracks and work Sans into this kind of lather.

Well, Red and Edge. But that was equally satisfying.

Sans whimpered around Edge's dick at Red's little shift, his joints lighting up as though a powder blue fire had been stoked in his marrow. He felt the snicker bubble in his own throat, dragging his nails over Sans' hips. _He was so fucking beautiful like this, vulnerable and pliant and delicious._ Red couldn't see his face but he could guess from what he could see exactly what Edge had a front row seat to: Sans' face, flushed that pretty azure; sockets nearly closed save for just the right amount to see his eyelights had blown up to twice their usual size; tears tracking down to mix with the saliva that fell in artful little rivulets. Edge was getting his first showing of how Sans looked when he was taken apart, and Red planned to make absolutely sure it was a good show.

"ain't he just a pretty piece of art, boss?" Red asked, still letting himself grind against Sans' fluttering folds. He felt Sans' hips gerk, trying to grind back into him as if he could set the pace. _Cute_. Red kept it slow, kneading at his ilium and letting his sharp claws tease with a few gentle pricks.

The way Edge's eyelights flared, his face turning that amusing pink, was everything Red had hoped for.

"sings like a damn bird too," Red bragged, pulling back just enough to line himself up for the plunge, curling Sans' circumference with the tip. "c'mon sweetheart-" And Red was going to ignore that second flare of color in his brother's face, going to ignore the softness at the corner of his sockets as he let his gaze drift up from Sans to look at Red, like Red wasn't going to notice, _like Red would ever want to be looked at like that-_ "howzabout ya sing fer boss, eh? sing real sweet and i might just give ya what ya want."

Sans made a sort of disgruntled grunt, again trying to move his hips to impale himself. Red refused to let him off that easy, squeezing his hips tighter and pulling back an inch. His dick was drenched in Sans' arousal, blue slime tinted to a pleasant purple on his crimson flesh. A string of it kept them connected until it snapped like overstressed wire, excess dripping to the floor to make an obscene bit of abstract art.

Catching Edge watching, Red wiggled his brows, his sadist's heart fluttering at the anguish of making both of them wait.

"nah, that ain't how ya sing, now is it? or maybe ya just don't want none? i'm hurt." Red was proud of how dry his mock offense came out, perfectly tailored to let them both know he knew better, but he was going to milk it for what it was worth. "well, maybe i can change yer mind, huh?" And with two of his cum slick fingertips, Red crept his way to Sans' clit, giving it a few teasing strokes.

The _noise_ that Sans made was like Red had ripped it right out of his ribcage, low and tremulous and desperate, lilting upwards with a satisfying trill that Red wished he'd recorded for posterity. He gave is own answering noise, that aching possessiveness stealing itself over his crusty, broken soul.

Red casually looked up to check on Edge, a pleased little grin tugging at his teeth. Edge looked near his breaking point, sweating and flushed and tense as a harp string, one little pluck away from his own undoing.

Red always was the type to pick at things until they bled.

"there ya go, sweetheart, just like that. sing so _fuckin'_ good fer me." Red continued to rub steadily at Sans' easiest button (along with his clit), prodding at his hole to begin the slow, exhilarating stretch. "just keep that up. boss is loving every damn s-" Even Red has to take a moment, a heavenly, sinful moment to love his god damn mind as he once more infiltrates those lazuline recesses he's dug out and nested in like a second home. Sans feels like a tailored glove, form-fitting in a way that is simultaneously too tight and not. He always does, no matter how many times Red fucks him open.

The way those perfect little sapphire walls clench around him when he leans in, ghosting his parted teeth against Sans' waiting neck, is another little achievement in a game he can't stop playing. Sans trembles under him, around him, and by extension around Edge, and Red can smell how close he is even without the telltale flutters as a warning. "every. damn. second." He rasped, before beginning to thrust in lazy, precise rolls of his pelvis. His patella and spine are going to ache like nobody's business by the end, but that was a fair trade for the delightful whimpers he managed to wring out from the corner of Sans' mouth, squeezing passed the dick held there with delicate reverence.

Red knew that that was a mouth that had killed lesser (and greater) men, metaphorically and literally. A small, rational part of his mind said it was stupidity at its finest to let that kind of diabolical weapon anywhere near his brother. Red kicked that part of his mind in the fucking teeth and sent it crying back to its bitch ass mother, because: 1, that was the sexist fucking part of that mouth and only made Red want to use and abuse it more; and 2, if Edge couldn't have it, then Red couldn't have it, and Red was most certainly going to be having that snarky fucking mouth all over him in the near future. Repeatedly.

As if being reminded of it, Sans began to bob his head, wringing a hiss out of Edge above them. "FUCK-!!" Edge's hands finally rip themselves from their position clawed into the couch, one settling on Sans' skull, making small, coaxing circles, while the other hooked two fingers around Red's collar and tugged enough to put pressure on his neck, to remind Red that Edge was still there and could have him belly up at the drop of a hat.

Something nice to think about for after Sans was a mess of endorphins and cum.

Red bit down on Sans' neck, growling, letting every dark, possessive, desire he had out, trying to will the imprint of his teeth to mark the bone without needing to dig too deep.

Sans clenched down around Red like a vice, gushing slick as he shook through an orgasm Red could be proud of contributing to. He moaned, loud and shameless (a feat that had taken more work than Red usually bother with, a reward well deserved for his dedicated tending of Sans' underappreciated body). Red knew just how it felt to have that noise travel through one's vulnerable sex, so he wasn't the least surprised when Edge bucked with another curse, clutching Sans' skull to him as he was finally tripped into his own end.

Red unclenched his jaw from Sans' throat and replaced them with his tongue, laving a long, wet strip over the mirrored crescents one at a time. The discoloration was spreading, promising that it would culminate into a beautiful bruise, splotches of color to decorate the etchings in Sans' largely unblemished bone. A satisfied purr ripped through Red unbidden, but as he gave a few final thrusts before filling Sans with his own release, he couldn't quite bring himself to give a shit. SO what if he showed a few signs that might be interpreted (with any range of accuracy) as affectionate. It wasn't a crime. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted and if someone had a problem with it, there was plenty of space underneath their floorboards for a dead body.

Pressing the flat of his teeth right up against his latest accomplishment, Red could feel the reverberation of Sans' throat, the tiny quivers as he swallowed fervently. Red looked up again to catch Edge's reaction, which did not disappoint: Edge was watching Sans swallow everything he had to give, and if the insatiable delight in those eyes was any indication, he was becoming just as addicted to the experience as Red had become.

They really were a couple of helpless idiots when it came to their pretty little liability. Red wouldn't change it for the world.

Disentangling himself Red pulled out, taking a brief moment to admire how his cum stained Sans' legs and lips, their colors mixing again into a delicious violet. Sans was slow to slide back, but he eventually eased himself off of Edge and fell into Red's lap, mouth still hanging open, jaw limp like the rest of him.

Red pulled him close, again pressing a territorial kiss to his bite mark, tilting Sans' head up to admire the mouth that had swallowed all of Edge's cum. "thats a good boy."

"HOLY SHIT," Edge rasped, gazed fixed on the two of them, unblinking, unwilling to miss a single second.

"yeah." Red agreed. He shifted, hooking Sans' legs over his own to spread them wide, still supporting Sans with one arm around his chest. Sans head lolled back, settling in the crook of Red's neck, where Red could feel the hot pulse of every panted breath. Sans smelled like him and Edge again, sex and sweat and familiarity, just the way it should be.

Red reached down, locking eyes with Edge and watching his gaze follow the arch of his arm, down to Sans' pussy Red spread the lips open, letting more of his cum bubble and drip down to the carpet, leaving a wet spot to match the other that had long since been washed away. "ain't this better?"

"MUCH." Edge agreed, dragging the jagged pieces of his broken composure back together.

Sans keened, breathless and soft, squirming nicely against Red's body. "better..." he parroted in that slurred wet voice he always had post orgasm. "better..." He turned his face to hide more in Red's neck, a shredded, sleepy mewl vocalizing his comfort. Red felt the sound squeeze down on his soul. "bed?"

The question made Red snort. "fine." He tried to stand up, but while he was sure his legs would hold his own weight, they didn't seem up to holding Sans' too.

Edge stood up, scooping Sans out of Red's lap (and Red would have happily shredded anyone else who tried that to atomic pieces, vaporized them down to the powdered char) and stood waiting for Red to find his footing. Edge could have just started walking, but he was an idiot like that, instead waiting patiently as he cuddled Sans like one would cuddle a sleeping kitten, so that Red could keep pace with them.

Admittedly, Red was pretty sure he might have broken a few things if either one of them had left his sight, never mind both, and his brother probably knew that.

They headed up the stairs together, quietly agreeing to take this to Red's bedroom, and indulge Sans' weird need for afterglow contact. Red could suffer himself a few hours of hugging, and Edge could suffer through a few hours of being sweaty, musky messes before carting them all to the bathroom for a long, hot soak.

Red heard a hiss from the livingroom, the sound of a cat finding signs of an intruder in the home, and Red made a mental note to leave them a few strips of dried fish. For now, he had to pay the ultimate price, and be Sans' pillow for the evening as Edge lay beside them, quietly plotting murder.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the other place.

The one who had always called himself Sans strut back into the livingroom just in time to see the other three disappear. He ground his teeth, then turned his eyes to his brother.

The one who had always called himself Papyrus was still dizzy and blissed out, legs spread and magic glowing from inside his frumpy pants.

Sans stalked over to him, lifting his leg easily and stepping on his brother's chest, leaning his full (if negligible) weight on him and growling. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

Papyrus grunted, smiling sheepishly up at his irate brother. "sorry, mlord. he was just too cute-" he cut off with a wheeze as Sans dug his sharp stiletto heel into his sternum.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THIS REQUIRED DELICACY!!" He snarled. "I HAD PLANS, YOU USELESS DOG!! CAPTURE, SEDUCE, WINE AND DINE, COLLAR, AND THEN ENJOY. I HAD FUCKING PLANS TO INTERGRATE THEM INTO THIS HOUSEHOLD AND YOU SCARED THEM OFF WITH YOUR USELESS DICK!!"

"we can get 'm back-"

"YOU THINK THEY'RE GOING TO BE SO EASY TO WRANGLE NOW?!?!?" He let out a screech of outrage. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW ANGRY I AM WITH YOU?!?!?"

Papyrus' sockets hooded. "sure ya could show me~"

"YOU WOULD LIKE THAT TOO MUCH." Sans yanked his foot away. "YOU FIND THEM, YOU APOLOGISE AND YOU GROVEL AND YOU DO WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS YOU HAVE TO DO TO FIX THIS, OR HEAVEN HELP YOU BECAUSE NOTHING LESS WILL SAVE YOU FROM ME."

The Papyrus licked his teeth. "yes mlord." As if he had ever wanted to be saved.

At least now the other, taller one wouldn't be stealing his lord's attention from him. Cute as the other two were, Papyrus didn't feel inclined to share with someone else wearing his own face, no matter how much his brother might like the idea. He was selfish like that.

A week, maybe two, and this would all blow over, and Papyrus would grovel and beg at Sans' feet as he always did, and Sans would forgive him as he always did, and all would be right with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aswgrteawegrhtrergweresttegrwragerr


	32. Day 31: Sleep It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** any  
**Kinks:** Somnophilia | Kissing | Scars | Toys | Cunnilingus | Anal | Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans / Dancetale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity
> 
> Red takes a nap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.6k of nothing particularly special. its nothing much really im so tired happy halloween

Red wasn't entirely certain why his pets were asking this of him. Dance and Lust certainly liked to try some... unusual things. Most of the time, Red didn't mind what they did, since he could be there to step up if something went wrong, but this time, what they were asking would mean he couldn't do that...

Red stared at the bottle of sleeping pills for a long moment, before heaving a great, world weary sigh, and writing out a succinct note on one of the sticky-notes he had sitting on the side table. Then, with only the faintest bit of apprehension that he resolutely elbowed back into submission, Red popped two of the pills and lay back on the bed.

* * *

When Dance and Lust came back from their outing, Dance went to put away the snacks he had snagged from the gas station.

Lust pulled his boots off, sighing as he allowed himself to loosen his belt and wander towards the bedroom to change. "red? sweetheart, we're ho-" he started to call, only to cut himself off upon seeing his love curled up on the bed, sleeping soundly in his loose jersey and boxers, one sock hanging off of one foot. It was unusual for Red not to rouse at all, given he would function with one foot in the grave and still somehow come when they called for him. At first Lust was _seriously concerned_, dropping his pants to the floor carelessly and rushing over to Red's side. "red?? r-"

He saw the note, an unassuming thing, the tiny square sporting two letters, [ok], next to the bottle of sleeping pills. Lust let out a relieved chuckle, crawling up onto the bed to kneel over Red, pressing a soft kiss to his skull. "we didn't mean right away," he murmured, surprised he hadn't begun to choke on the fondness he had for the man. "but you do need your sleep, and we can do it now since you said so~" He kept his voice low, even knowing Red wouldn't wake for a while no matter what he did.

Lust gave him another kiss, this time to Red's jaw. Red continued sleeping, breathing slow and deep and unhurried.

Lust heard a low, pleased noise from the doorway. He turned to see Dance standing there, eyelights burning bright and face flushed a pale powder blue.

"he said ok?" Dance asked softly, voice rough.

Lust grinned, wiggling the sticky note. "he's so good to us. look at him." _Lust loved him so much. Red was so giving, so patient, so trusting, it drove Lust absolutely bat shit crazy._ Lust set the note aside again, shucking off his vest and shirt before wiggling more onto the bed and pulling Red closer. He rolled Red onto his back, pulling one of his hands up to nuzzle into, to kiss.

Lust really shouldn't have been as turned on as he was.

Dance kicked his shoes off, crawling up onto the bed with a predatory grace to straddle Red's hips. "he does this on purpose, just to rile me," he muttered, curling up to hide his face in Red's chest, nuzzling.

Lust smiled. "i think he's just too cute and we have no self control."

Dance muttered something about 'showing you self control' before shimmying up enough to press a kiss to Red's teeth, then tug Lust in for a deeper, more mutual one. Lust moaned, trilling as he kissed back, more than happy to yield to Dance, to let him lead.

Dance groaned throaty, pulling back to nuzzle into Lust's neck, into the collar sitting perfectly there. "get the bullet vibes," he murmured.

Lust shivered, sliding back to fetch the toys like Dance wanted, soul fluttering excitedly. By the time Lust had gotten back with them, Dance had shifted his position again and was running his hands over Red's ribs, his shirt bunched up to bare them. Red was still breathing easy, Dance's gentle, tender petting not enough to disturb him yet.

Lust set the toys aside where Dance could reach, tracing the curve of one rib from Red's sternum around to where it curved against the bed. Red shivered, head lolling to one side, a soft smile gracing his face.

Lust hoped he was having good dreams.

Dance smirked, still just gently rubbing his palm from side to side. Slowly, however, his technique changed, switching from using the flat to using the tips of his fingers, starting to follow, not the natural curve of Red's body, but the curves _on_ it, tracing the little scratches and not-so-little scratches that littered their lover's sturdy frame.

The first time Dance catches his fingertip in a missing chip, Red jerks, sucking in a sharp breath that somehow catapults a fragment of his voice, the tiniest shred of a broken moan. Red's face dusts over in that pretty pink that Lust loved to see, his joints lighting up with a dull, low burn.

Dance's eyelights scrape over Red, just as delighted and surprised by such a sudden reaction. "he sure is honest in his sleep," Dance murmured, leaning in to drag his tongue over a gouge in Red's ribs.

Red whimpered, his head again turning as if to hide the way his blush deepened. His sleepy smile was replaced with slack jawed panting. The sight made Lust's magic boil and ache faster than should have been possible, settling in his pelvis heavy as magma. He leaned in, pulling Red's shirt away enough to get to his clavicle and tongue at the chip there, drawing out another helpless moan from his helpless love.

"fuck, he's so responsive," Dance wheezed, scooting back to settle between Red's splayed legs. Red's magic was swirling in his pelvis as much as Lust's, vivid and malleable. Dance curled two fingers up into it from the bottom, stirring it. Red's back arched, tiny micro-motions as he was left helpless to the stimulation.

Lust wiped some drool from Red's chin, biting back a whimper of his own.

Dance continued to gently work at Red's pelvis until he'd managed to coax Red into forming his pussy. Dance licked his fingers clean, moaning himself at the taste. He smiled. "this was your idea, babe. come here and enjoy it."

Lust shivered, crawling over to take Dance's place between Red's legs. Looking down at Red like this, relaxed and vulnerable and willing, trusting Lust and Dance this much, he didn't know what to do with himself. Lust knelt down, drawing Red's hips up enough to that Lust could give his quivering folds a long, slow lick, tasting him.

Lust heard the noise Red made, and it went right to his now very hard dick.

Growling low in satisfaction, Lust began to eat Red out, forcing himself to go slow, gentle, to take his time. Red was asleep after all, he needed tender affections. Above him, Dance loomed, watching the both of them with a hunger of his own, clearly enjoying every second of it.

Lust felt the indicative twitches against his tongue, a silent little beg from Red's body. Lust let himself lick and grind a bit faster, harder, drinking in what Red had to give. He could feel it, Red was close-

Then Lust was yanked back by his collar, and Dance kissed him, growling and hungry and loving and Lust could only cling to him for the ride. When they parted, Dance licked a bit of slick from Lust's chin. "not yet," he murmured.

Lust whimpered, squirming himself. He leaned on Dance while checking Red over again. Red was drenched in sweat, shimmering in all those pretty reds and golds and greens, chest heaving. He looked absolutely debauched, obscenely lovely.

Dance picked up the toys Lust had left for him, licking them for good measure before sliding them inside Red and turning them to their lowest (most infuriating) setting. He then guided Lust to lean over Red on all fours, so Lust had the best view in the house of his sweetheart's expression. "you didn't think he'd be the only one getting touched tonight did you?" Dance asked, rubbing his stiff length between Lust's legs.

Lust shook, trembling in anticipation as he felt Dance begin to finger him, then stroking him on top of it. Under him, Red was squirming, a desperate, needy mewl escaping somewhere between little twitches. Lust leaned in to kiss at his skull, his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, anywhere he could reach to sooth him, to let Red know he was loved.

Dance's hands started moving faster, adding a second finger to the mix. Lust grit his teeth, trying to keep quiet. Dance chuckled, teasing at Lust's tip with his thumb. "i'm so lucky to have all of this..."

Lust wanted to say that _he_ was the lucky one, but that was when Dance let go of him, pulling out his fingers, just to replace them with his dick. Lust keened, collapsing to hide his face in Red's shoulder, clinging as Dance pounded into him exactly how he liked it.

Under him, Red's breath hitched again, and Lust thought he heard the click of the vibe going up a notch.

Lust moaned softly in Red's ear, nuzzling as he clung to him for grounding. Dance had set a deep, slow pace, the kind that was less for instant gratification and more for the satisfying burn that would wear them out and leave them with an extra long afterglow. It was time consuming but exceedingly effective and had Lust's toes curling even now. Lust had no doubt how many times he was going to come, once more between the two monsters he loved the most.

This was going to be a long night, but at least for once, Red was getting some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!  
if you liked it i have other stuff somewhere.  
probably in my works list lol
> 
> reminder that this work will become restricted to AO3 user accounts only in November

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [GetMcDunkedOn's Kinktober 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841002) by [Biryu13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biryu13/pseuds/Biryu13), [GetMcDunkedOn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetMcDunkedOn/pseuds/GetMcDunkedOn)
  * [Territory Crash (an attl au)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339046) by [Kamari333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333)
  * ['Brotherly' Love And Forced Freedom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486030) by [Aquamarine_Ocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquamarine_Ocean/pseuds/Aquamarine_Ocean)


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